


'Sorry' is Just a Platitude

by shinkonokokoro



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Cap-Iron Man Big Bang 2014, Fix-It, M/M, Original Sin Fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some of the events of Original Sin and Steve and Tony's split, Steve is full of regrets and Tony is dead. Until suddenly Tony isn't dead and Steve is confused and things are really complicated. And suddenly adult conversations have never been more relevant. Unfortunately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had two lovely artists working with me! So lucky! 
> 
> By the lovely spanglesandsass: [[x]](http://spanglesandsass.tumblr.com/post/102288847134/my-part-in-the-cap-iron-man-big-bang-a-couple-of) [[y]](http://spanglesandsass.tumblr.com/post/102289042009/sketches-for-sorry-is-just-a-platitude)
> 
> And 
> 
> [Link 2 - coming]

Strength had always been one of Steve Rogers' assets. (There were days, years, where that was very much untrue, but they are long ago and Steve has put them away on the shelf because, while they were formative of who he is, they just don't matter anymore.) However, as he hears the crunch of bone as his fist hits Tony Stark's unprotected torso, a small small voice pipes up with the fact that that might not be true right now. While his strength may not have been inherited, his temper definitely was. No longer here nor there, Steve could call up memories of Joseph Rogers hitting Sarah Rogers and knocking her to the ground, defenseless and crying. To the 'kids' behind him, Steve wondered if the scene looked much different to them, as Tony's face scrunched up in pain—so much pain. More than just physical. And then went down.

Steve raised a fist again, only to have Thor's big hand curl around it and hold him back, a muffled curse coming from Clint. “Jesus, Cap. That _really_ necessary? This is feeling all sorts of d éjà vu here. Anyone else... no....? That a...right. I'll just... aww shit.”

“I'm done with you, Anthony Stark,” Steve heard himself say as Tony curled on the ground, breath high and tight in distress. He stayed a moment, standing over Tony Stark with anger still licking at his heart, thinking he should be feeling something like victory. Instead, he just felt empty. And a little bit sick. Empty and a little bit sick. Maybe he wasn't his father after all. When Tony didn't say anything, Steve turned on his heel and stalked out.

The next day, Anthony Edward Stark was dead.

Untreated pierced lung that filled with fluid and drowned him in his sleep. Or while he was unconscious, more likely. Steve knew that was more likely. Trust the papers to spin it any way they wanted.

Steve vomited and declined the offer to speak at the funeral. He stood, instead, at the back. Hiding really. He didn't deserve to be there at all. So he kept his head down. And didn't cry.

Steven Grant Rogers did not say words over Tony's grave, not even alone.

He disassembled the Illuminati and worked and did his duty to make up for the damage caused. No one called him out on it. But Carol didn't speak to him. For nearly two years. And she wasn't the only one. Thor stayed thunderously quiet for longer than expected. It didn't matter when everyone still followed orders on the field. They forgave him in the end. After all. He was Steve Rogers. Not Tony Stark.

“We need Iron Man,” Steve said bluntly to Rhodey (no, he doesn't have the right to call him that name) after he'd swooped in as War Machine to help with air support in the most recent battle.

“You have War Machine's support,” the man replied woodenly.

“We need Iron Man. A scalpel. Not a broad sword.”

“I guess that's too bad,” Rhodes replied, folding his arms. “Seeing as you—” He let the unspoken words fill the silence. “Seeing as he's dead.”

Steve nodded once, sharply. “Think about it.” Paused. “Please.”

Rhodes shot into the air, leaving them to their clean up.

That night, Steve dreamt of red and gold cutting through the clouds and calling him a 'geezer,' landing gracefully and knocking his shoulder while he voiced a desire for Orlando's Pizza. The unspoken invitation hung in the air as usual. But since he woke panting from it, heart pounding, Steve figured it might classify as more of a nightmare.

Rhodes aided them in two more battles before reluctantly agreeing to pilot a different suit.

The first time Steve saw the familiar red and gold, his heart leapt in his throat, and Steve stared until a falling piece of concrete jarred him out of his stupor. It looked terrible. Rhodes was used to the War Machine armour. Not Tony's cutting edge equipment. So Rhodes went too fast, banked too tight, fired too fast, too slow.

But he followed orders.

In fact, he followed order so well that the cohesiveness of the team skyrocketed. They worked together smoother than ever. No mid-plan changes. No back-talk. Save for Clint. No death-inviting stunts. Again, maybe save for Clint. But that was the usual, so his heart didn't pound as much. It was good. Very good. No mid-battle heart attacks. No post-battle dress-down arguments. Good. They were becoming more efficient as every fight knit them together like healing bone. Good. Right?

Steve shuffled into the common kitchen after his morning workout and shower. He blinked at Carol futzing with the coffee machine, cursing it quietly. He could have sworn... Steve shook his head.

“Morning, Cap,” Rhodes said, making him jump.

“To—Rhodes...” Steve said, going for his coffee mug, ignoring the man's strange look.

“You okay, sir?”

“What have I told you about calling me that?” Steve's voice was sharper than he intended. “You outrank me. 'Steve' is just fine.”

James just chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Tony—” He blinked, like he was surprised his friend's name crossed his lips so easily. “I... huh. Never mind. Just tell me when and where for training and I'll be there.”

He nodded, wincing as the coffee burnt his tongue. “Sure. I'll text you.”

Opening his mouth to say more, Rhodes instead chuckled mirthlessly and just shook his head.

“Go ahead...” Steve said tartly with a sigh.

“Tony. You know. He'd laugh. You texting. Like this...” James shook his head. “Never mind. Doesn't matter.” He stood up, putting his bowl in the dishwasher, then leaving. Leaving Steve alone in the kitchen, Carol having snuck out at some point during their conversation.

Tony.

Been two and a half years since his death.

And yet...the same guilt oozed up his throat whenever he thought about it, making him... He didn't know. Steve drained the mug just to feel the sharpness of the burn before it began to heal and fade already.

“Steve.”

He whirled, hand grabbing for the shield that wasn't there. No one. No one was there. He was alone. Steve calmed his breathing and headed back to his room. He needed to redecorate. There was a framed picture of the original team next to the window, the same one Tony had hanging in both the Tower and the Mansion. Iron Man's hand on his shoulder. How young they all were. So clean, by comparison. Steve pulled the picture off the wall and shoved it into his closet. It was a gift. So he couldn't let it go. Not just yet. Probably not ever. He grabbed a few of the other gifts from Tony and pushed them into his closet. The vintage Captain America poster. The now old-fashioned phone that sat on his desk that he never used. Hell, that letter opener. All his art supplies. Steve's hands paused over the highest quality coloured pencils that he'd ever owned and just shoved them in the drawer instead. There was too much. His phone had been a gift from Tony. Even his uniform. Steve took a deep breath, the air rattling into his lungs. Not enough. Too much. He needed...

He needed to fight. Steve grabbed his phone off his bedside table and scrolled through his contacts. Thor. Thor would be good. Dialled.

No answer. He cursed softly to the silence of his own empty room. Dropped his phone on his bed to get out his wraps for the heavy bag. Which Tony had designed. His communicator blared, however, a moment later, Steve quietly thanking the universe for giving him what he needed, not delving in to the reasons  _why_ he needed it.

“Avengers Assemble,” Steve ordered as the location was rattled off by the communicator. He threw on his uniform and headed to the Quinjet to await the (surprisingly prompt) arrival of the rest of the team present. Carol flew in, Rhodes seconds behind in the armour.

Steve's eyes followed the red and gold suit, the stray thought of 'Tony and Carol?' floating through his mind. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Okay, Cap?” Clint asked, trotting up the liftgate.

“Fine. Anyone else?”

“Don't think so. You, me, Carol, Rhodes—oh. And Luke,” Clint replied as the last hurried to join them.

Steve nodded. Sank into a chair as Carol closed the doors and took them up.

The battle itself was less than satisfying. Villain of the week. Some guy with telekinetic powers who decided he needed to rearrange Manhattan. Some guy with telekinetic powers who had poor control who decided he needed to rearrange Manhattan. Steve gave his orders—Carol come from around back after she dropped Clint safely up high. Luke take point. Rhodes take the right, Steve would take the left, box him in and they'd keep him distracted and busy until someone had the chance to take him down. And it worked. Steve grit his teeth, everyone doing as they were told. Rhodes fired missiles, carol blasted in and went in for a punch or eight. Luke kept running around, chucking debris at him, and Clint kept him on the defensive with trick arrows. It was neat. Tidy. Organised. It was  _too_ easy and neat.

“Carol,” Steve said, mouth moving before his brain had really thought about it. “I want you to grab this guy. Pin him down. Luke, just knock him out. Punch him. Let's end this.” The silence over the comms was loud enough to tell him they didn't like that idea. Rightly so. It was a bad call. There were people around. And if it didn't work, then they'd be in danger.

“If you say so, Cap,” Luke said slowly.

“Yeah,” Steve replied gruffly, running down the street towards the guy.

“You sure about this, Steve?” Carol asked.

“I'm sure,” Steve said, bored and wanting to get back to the Tower.

“If you say so,” she echoed finally, darting overhead.

His jaw clenched. It was a bad call. They all knew it was a bad call. Why weren't they fighting him on this? But it got the job done. It was a risk. Like Tony would have done. The guy went down, and he was cuffed with a power-dampener—Tony's invention as well. Then SHIELD came to collect him and get him off to the raft.

Steve didn't go to the Quinjet. Staring at the ruined street that the Maria Stark Foundation would swoop in and fix, Steve tried to swallow his frustration. Everything was wrong. It was all wrong.

“Yo, Cap. You coming?” Clint said over their headsets. A few minutes later, when Steve said nothing, Clint asked again, “Cap? Steve?”

“No.” Steve looked back to the jet. “No. You guys go. I'll walk.” In the silence that followed, Steve snarled to himself and pulled off his cowl to ignore any response from the team. Vanishing down an alley, he tucked his shield into the collapsible knapsack Tony had fashioned for him. He kept it in his utility belt for times like this. This and a fold-able poncho to throw over his uniform so he wouldn’t be stopped by the public as he walked home.

This was absurd. He should be  _grateful_ , instead of trying to throw his team off and make them distrust his leadership.

But instead of grateful, Steve was just going stir-crazy. Apparently he  _needed_ some discordance in his life. No. Not that. He needed someone to challenge him. He needed Tony's bright blues alight with the challenge of a verbal match-up. He needed... Steve scowled as he marched towards home. He needed to get his mind off of Tony and his guilt over the situation. It wasn't entirely his fault! Tony must have noticed. He should have sought out medical attention, the stupid son of a gun...

Steve grit his teeth. This wasn't helping.  _Nothing_ was helping. More hours in the gym wasn't helping. Sparring wasn't really helping. Reading, driving, drawing, running, even  _sleeping_ didn't help. Worse, sleeping lead to dreams about Tony. And even though he still disagreed, still was angry at Tony, the dreams where he was smiling at him were the best, because they were real. And Steve couldn't remember the last time he had seen Tony smile in earnest.

The Tower emerged into view from between two buildings, the height of it feeling oppressive. Daunting. Overbearing. Intrusive. Judgmental. It made Steve loathe to enter, so he took another lap around the block until it came into view again. Steve heaved a sigh, his feet moving more reluctantly as they took him towards the Tower. He hadn't really worked up a sweat, and yet a shower still felt necessary. Like he could wash away the guilt.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Another month and a half saw no improvement. If anything, it was worse. Steve dreamt of Tony in some capacity or another. Every night. There were some dreams that had Steve jack-knifing upright in bed, panting as his heart pounded, images of Tony still flashing across his brain like slide reels: Tony with blood leaking between his lips as he managed another fake smile. Tony with his face frozen in horror and betrayal as Steve held the reactor in his hand and crushed it. Tony  _offering_ him the arc, the light flickering. Tony disappearing into some red-hued murky water. Tony standing before him and simply fading into a fine mist. Tony digging wearily in his own chest and pulling out a shrivelled prune-sized object and laying it at Steve's feet with a muffled explanation of: my heart, Steve.

Was it any wonder Steve's guilt didn't go away?

But then there were dreams that had Steve jolting awake panting, heart pounding, for a very different reason. These were more a recent thing. But they were killing him all the same, making him feel  _more_ guilty and slowly revealing his admiration and affection for the man. The first dream had startled and unnerved him so badly that he didn't sleep for two nights after Tony's olive-toned skin seeming to stretch for miles before him as Steve knelt in supplication at the man's feet.

There hadn't been men before him. Before  _Tony_ . To share his bed. And Steve had never thought before... Well. He'd never noticed men in that way. And to be dreaming about  _Tony_ of all people like that... The man had become his best friend. Maybe more than that, what with all they'd been through. And the irony wasn't lost on Steve that if he were going to talk to someone about this, that person would have been Tony.

By this point, Steve might actually have had Tony on his mind more frequently than when the man had been alive.

Sequestered in the library, Steve heaved a sigh, completely incapable of focusing on this book. Too bad Tony wasn't  _here_ to listen to Steve and his problems. There wasn't really anyone else who would listen while Steve talked through it. And there wasn't anyone else he trusted to be as judgment-free when talking about personal issues.

He shut the book and slung it across the room, immediately hit by tidal wave of guilt. He shouldn't take it out on the poor book. Tony's poor book. It didn't do anything. And it wasn't his fault. If Tony had just sought out medical attention when he realised something was wrong. But then...if Steve hadn't lost his damn temper. If Steve hadn't punched him. If Steve had responded like the reasonable adult he was toted to be instead of a goddamn... Tony was the only person who made him lose his temper like this.

(And what did  _that_ say about Steve, his likeness to his father, and how much he cared about Anthony Edward Stark?)

“Fuck,” he breathed brokenly.

It was his fault. He'd killed Tony Stark.

He was responsible.

Steve killed Tony.

Steve Rogers killed his best friend.

He dropped his face into his hands and wept.

 


	2. Chapter 2

If only there were some way to say 'I'm sorry' that Tony could hear. Acknowledge. Even if Tony hated him. Even if Tony never spoke to him again, at least Steve could apologise and clear his conscience. Do right by the man.

But then...they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. And it's not like he could—or _would—_ bring Tony back only to apologise to him and then let him die again. Steve shuddered as he haunted the sofa, late Thursday night. The rest of the team was either out or asleep, leaving him to his party part of one in front of the TV, in the dark with a beer.

And it wasn't, too, like he hadn't had enough time to understand more of the...issue. As Steve's memories cleared up. He didn't agree, still. But he understood the flow of events. And the obviousness of Tony, in classic Tony style, trying to make it up to oblivious Steve with his inclusivity and devoted friendship.

Steve hadn't suspected a thing. Ignore the nightmares and lean into Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony! Damn the man for.

For what?

Steve wasn't even paying attention to the reruns of CSI.

For what. For Tony doing what Tony thought was right? No. Tony always did that, even when he might have been wrong.

Even still, Steve didn't have the whole story either. It had been the Illuminati. Not just Tony. Tony hadn't made the choice in a vacuum. Nor had he been alone. But it was different. Namor had always been....Namor. Thus it wasn't too hard to see him come to this decision. Black Bolt... Reed Richards... Stephen Strange: friendly with Steve, but detached enough to make that call. Tony was the only one for whom that decision had been personal. And while Steve may have prevented them from doing awful things, holding them back, being a voice of restraint, keeping them to a higher standard...

Tony had told him once that he saw Steve as his lodestone. Moral compass.

So in getting rid of Steve, was Tony shunting his moral compass to the side to allow him to do what needed to be done and not feel guilty? Allowing himself to be swept up in the ruthlessness of the other men on that committee?

Steve dropped the remote that had been laying limply in his hand and scrubbed his face with a groan. Thinking about it only brought up more questions. Like why did Tony lie to him like this. Why did Tony let this happen in the first place? Like why did Tony shoulder all of the responsibility when Steve was sure that likely wasn't all his. Not that he had a clear head to think about it...

“Steve...?”

He jumped, whirling to see Carol standing there. He hadn't even heard her approach, his thoughts were so loud.

“are you okay?” she asked softly, skirting the sofa and coming around to face him.

He tempered his sprawl and gestured for her to join him. Which she did. Then waited for him to speak. Which...he did. “It's... Tony.”

Her gaze softened, lips curving up ever-so-slightly. “I should have known.”

“Sorry?” Steve blinked at her.

“It's always one or the other with you two.”

He dropped his gaze to his hands twisted in his lap. “I guess it is, isn't it.” Too late in the game to deny it.

“Yeah. Yeah, honey, it is...” Her voice was thick with wry amusement while the endearment made him think of Tony. “What this time?” Carol asked, like she didn't already known.

“I...” He fell silent, lips pressed tight.

“I miss him,” she said baldly, interrupting Steve. Saving him from having to say it himself.

Steve ducked his head and hit a small smile. “Yeah. Me too. I...wish he... We need him.”

“Rhodey's doing just fine,” she said defensively.

He chuckled softly. “You two doing okay then?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “We're good, and that's not what I'm here to talk about.” She fixed Steve with a reproachful look.

Steve heaved a sigh. “Rhodes is doing great. He's...just not Tony.”

“So you want your boyfriend on the team too?”

Steve froze, eyes wide as he stared at Carol.

“It's a _joke_ , Cap. Relax. Sorry. Bad taste.” It was her turn to sigh as she relaxed back into the sofa cushions. “You want to talk about it? You've been...different.”

“It's my fault,” he confessed, vice harsh. “I killed him. It's my fault, and I just need...”

“Steve, it's not your fault, okay?” Carol assured him. “It's not.”

“Yes it is!” he insisted. “It's _my_ fault! I punched him! I broke his ribs, punctured his lung!” With a strangled sound, Steve pushed his hands through his hair. “And _worse_ ! I _know_ his ribs are weak! Why wouldn't I know that. Of _course_ I do! And I went for his weak spot! Fuck, Carol!” And dropped his face into his hands, silence stretching like warm taffy. Finally, Steve voiced, muffled, “And I can't even say 'I'm sorry.' Because he's dead. And I don't know how to bring him back.”

“Steve...” Carol began.

Her hand warmed his shoulder, making Steve's breath hitch, swallowing back a sob.

“Yeah... Okay. Have you talked to anyone?”

He lifted his head to turn a derisive look on her. “Who am I going to talk to.”

“You can talk to anyone, Steve,” Carol replied sharply. “There are SHIELD people who will keep everything confidential, or you can talk to your team. There's no sham—”

“Don't tell me there's no shame in it. I _know_ that,” Steve replied in the same sharp tones.

“Then why don't you _do_ it. Talk to us, Steve. We knew Tony too. You know he was my sponsor. I think that earns me the right to mourn my loss in this too. But hell. At least the liquor didn't kill him. Right?”

He opened his mouth to reply, brow furrowing angrily. “I don't thin—”

“Yeah. You're not thinking. And if he could stay sober through our little civil war, then I think I can stay sober through the loss of _him_ . So keep moping Steve Rogers. Because I'm sure that honours his memory _really_ well. You're not the only one who misses him. And you're not the only one who maybe should have done shit differently.” Carol stood and stalked out of the room. Leaving him. Once again, alone.

Steve sighed, shut off the TV and dragged himself to bed, nothing gained save for more guilt and nothing solved.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Three years, one month, and fourteen days had Steve nearly going out of his mind. No, it had him on the verge of cracking. Shattered safety glass just waiting for one more flick to go cascading to the ground in pieces. He was a runaway train speeding towards the cliff with no brakes. And the team knew it. They had to know it. He was the weak link and he had a tenuous grasp on his title of 'leader' even though he had probably ceased being truly capable about six months ago. But there was no one who fought him or challenged him. Carol put a half-hearted effort into it, but she wasn't Tony.

Tony who _wasn't_ in the red and gold armour he would see swooping past Carol for a quick smooch. The very thought of Tony with Carol made his skin crawl.

Steve grit his teeth, scrubbing harder at the leather of his uniform. It was a healthy way to work out his aggression. Setting aside the top, he grabbed the utility belt, dumping out the occupants of the different pouches to clean them as well as the gear. Something in the pile glinted that shouldn't have, making Steve frown. Just there... Steve picked up the small round gem, bright orange. His jaw fell slack as his eyes widened. “This...” An Infinity Gem. He could swear it. “Wha...” How had it gotten into his uniform? And which one was it?

He went down to Tony's workshop, accessing it with his password, doing the same to get into Tony's main systems database. A search for the Infinity Gems brought him to a locked file. Which locked him out after he tried several different passwords. A security question blinked up on the screen:

_What is your favourite flavour of ice cream?_

Steve frowned. But he slowly typed in 'Rocky Road.'

_What is your mother's maiden name?_

He typed 'Carbonell.'

_What is your best friend's birthday?_

“Shit.” He didn't know Rhodes' birthday. Tony never remembered birthdays anyway... He texted Pepper who, thankfully, replied a few minutes later.

Except that it was wrong. The screen flashed red after Steve pressed 'enter.' So he sat back to think a minute. Best friend. He entered Pepper's birthday. Red again. Steve leaned forward, frown still in place, and entered: 07/04/1918. 'Enter.'

“Huh...” Steve said when the screen flashed and prompted him for a new password. He put down Tony's middle name and birthdate before digging into the file on the Infinity Gems. And learned that the orange one was the time gem. Sucking in a breath, Steve pushed away from the desk and stared at the little orange gem sitting there, feeling very suddenly like Eve being offered an apple.

Complete control over time.

Steve stood.. Turned. Took two steps. Turned back again. Grabbed the gem. Took a step towards the door. And nearly ran into Tony.

“Steve—” Tony's eyes went comically wide as he took Steve in, arms wrapped around his chest. His breathing sounded laboured. Like he had fluid in his lungs.

Steve could only stare at him blankly a long moment before raising a hand and uncurling his fingers from around the time gem clenched in his fist. Apparently the choice had been made for him. He let out a broken laugh. Grabbed Tony's shoulders to make sure he was real, tried to ignore the way the other man flinched. Willed time to go backwards on Tony's body. To undo the damage Steve had done.

Tony jerked away, emotions flying across his face. But Steve kept his grip on Tony's wrist at least, stepping towards him for every step Tony took back. Confusion crossed Tony's face as he looked around. “What...?”

“Tony...” Steve breathed aloud, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Both, maybe.

Gaze promptly shuttering, Tony jerked his wrist free and pulled away, stepping to the side and putting space between them. “What's going on.” He looked around, taking in the dust covering everything, the information still up on the screens. Steve _watched_ as the information parsed through Tony's brain, the man coming to the proper conclusion. “What did you do.”

“What do you remember?” Steve asked, ignoring the stab of hurt at the blunt sharpness of the question.

Tony's hands went to his ribs, corners of his eyes pinching, giving himself away. Everything, clearly. “What did you do, Rogers,” Tony demanded again. He pointed at the information about the time gem on the screen. “How long. What year is it? What's the date, Steve.”

“It's...”

“How _long_.”

“August. 2017,” Steve muttered.”

Cursing lowly, Tony walked in a tight circle, dragging his hands through his hair. “Why! No. No, don't... I don't care. I don't want to know. I hope you know what you're doing. You should—how did you even get your hands on that?” Tony nodded at the gem still in Steve's hand. “Of all the—you bring _me_ back? How petty _are_ you!” Tony spat, lip curling in disgust.

“Would you let me _talk_?” Steve entreated, brow furrowing. This wasn't...how he imagined this going. Petty? He wasn't... “Tony. I just—”

“Leave it,” he replied coldly. “Just leave it. Now what? Tell the world I'm back?” Tony said, mocking. “Surprise! The man you love to hate is back! Direct it here! Right here! This way.”

“Can you—would you _stop_?” Steve snapped. “It's... it's a different world out there. I—”

“Why did you even bother, Steve. Didn't get enough damage in the first time? Had more you wanted to say? To blame me for?” Tony mocked. Then stalked towards the door and headed over to the elevator to head upstairs.

“Tony...! Tony wait!” Steve called, chasing after him.

“No, Cap. You take the next one,” he said, letting the elevator doors shut in Steve's face.

Steve's stomach sank as his reflection accused him in the stainless steel doors, chest feeling tight like an impending asthma attack. “No...” No. No, this... This wasn't what he wanted.

Steve gripped his chest, staring at the closed doors in front of him, unable to help but feel that he'd just done something very awful.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony headed straight up to his bedroom, managing to not run into anyone. Which was good. An unintentional blessing. He wanted to have all of the information under his feet before he had to do any explaining, he realised. A tablet gained him internet access and all of the information he needed. Tony's mouth pulled tighter the more he read and saw. Up the rest of the night, Tony now had everything he needed to know. And it all boiled down to one thing: he wasn't needed.

So obviously, Steve... Well. He didn't know. Maybe Steve just wanted to dig at him some more. Because he didn't need him for the team. He had Rhodey piloting one of his old suits. Tony had maybe spent too long watching footage that made him cringe at first. There wasn't anyone else he'd rather have there, though. Inside his suit.

Only three years and one month (and fifteen days) and it was very clear how well things moved on without him.

And wasn't that humbling...

The company was doing fine. Small dips in stock and productivity after his death. But they recovered. Resilient. That was what he had wanted.

And the team... Rhodey had adapted well. And Steve still had Clint and Thor and Carol and Luke and Jan and Scott and Jessica. Tony would just get in the way. And they seemed to work better without him too. Tony had never seen himself as a source of distraction. But then... apparently he'd never really had an accurate self-image, had he. So he was the agitator. Tony fell back on his bed, feeling just as tired as he had before he'd died. Apparently even three years of death wasn't enough rest to not feel tired.

Staring at the ceiling, Tony frowned over that decision now too. He didn't know if he'd meant to die or not. Obviously, he'd known he was badly injured. He'd felt the snap of his ribs. As he was passing out in his workshop, Tony could have called for help. Could have alerted emergency services.

Tony shook his head. Didn't matter anymore, he supposed.

He supposed it didn't even matter if he disappeared again. The team, save for Cap, was doing fine... Tony sat upright with a frown. Steve. Steve's actions were off. His leadership of the team had noticeably gone downhill in his absence. He—

“Excuse me, what are you doing in Master Stark's roo—oh God.” There was a giant clatter.

Tony whirled to see Jarvis standing there in the doorway. He stood. Eyed the fallen cleaning supplies. “Uh...”

Jarvis pulled a gun, gaze hardening. “Who are you. Take off that  _ridiculous_ disguise. You're disgusting choice of disguises only serves to make my finger all the more eager.”

Tony's lips twitched up for the first time. “Impressive speech, J. I'd actually be afraid if I weren't me. Sorry.”

“Prove it,” Jarvis demanded, though his expression softened, almost as if he scarcely dared to hope.

Spreading his hands wide, palms down out of years of habit, Tony shrugged. “You want me to remind you of the time I fell off the wagon and made you, I  _pleaded_ , for you to drain the rest of the bottle because I didn't have enough will power to do it myself? Or how about the fact that you were more of a father to me than Howard was, dear old dad. Remember how he got me drunk on the good stuff at six? Because 'it'll put hair on my chest.'” Tony's mouth twisted. “I don't know what you wa—”

“Anthony...” Jarvis said, the gun clattering to the floor as well, making Tony wince. But Jarvis hurried over, clasping his shoulders, eyes watering. Voice thick, he said, “I am so glad to see you. How are you—”

“You'll have to ask Steve about that one,” Tony interrupted bitterly. “I don't know. Well. I do. But I don't know why. So.” He spread his hands. “Here I am. Ta-da.”

Head bowed, Jarvis's hands tightened on his shoulders. “I...am very glad you are back...”

Tony's mouth twisted. “I...uh. Thanks, J.”

“Let me get you something to eat. Are you hungry? Let me go get you something to eat.” The man pulled away and turned to leave.

“Hey. Keep it quiet, will you? Jarvis? I'm not sure what I want to do yet...”

Jarvis frowned at him over his shoulder and finally nodded, then left the room.

Alive. Again. The pointlessness of it left him listless. Aimless. A whole lot of '-less'es' and not a whole lot 'more's.'

The only things that were how he left them were his bedroom and...no. No, that wasn’t it. And not even that. His dirty laundry had been cleaned—or trashed. But everything else was straightened and tidied—probably by Jarvis—so his room was a little like a shrine to his memory. Hell, nothing was the same anymore, and the world was doing just fine without him.

Tony flopped back onto his bed again, gaze once more focused on the ceiling sightlessly. He thought back on Steve downstairs. Steve who...had brought him back? The look on Steve's face when he'd seen Tony, besides the surprise had been...something like relief. But it didn't make sense. The more Tony thought about it, the more it  _didn't_ make sense. Why...

Oh.

Guilt.

Distantly, he was aware of Jarvis bringing in a tray of food, setting it on the bedside table, tidied such that it looked like a floor model or a room someone might live in.

Guilt. That was something Tony could understand. If that's what this even was.

Guilt that he'd injured Tony enough to bring about his death? Guilt that he'd been too harsh?

Tony snorted. Not likely.

Though Steve was just stubborn enough to bring him back just so he could hammer his point truly home. Talk about beating a dead horse...

He laughed once to himself, bitter and tight. Sighing, Tony sat to go for the pesto cavatappi, obviously leftovers—this was Clint's favourite. Steve's face from downstairs warred with the cold incensed hatred from before, when Steve was giving him the beatdown.

Three years. He imagined that changed things for Steve, he reasoned to himself. Speaking of himself, however, his feelings were much the same as when he died. Steve was a too-rigid, self-righteous, son-of-a-bitch. Ironic, considering the amount of change he'd been through. Been subjected to. Tony did understand the other side, however. Maybe Steve had realised it  _wasn't worth it_ . But Tony would at least claim the moral high-ground of having never killed Steve. Directly. Steve had put his hands on Tony. This made it a hell of a lot more personal.

Tony's lip curled, unbidden, as the food suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. Chalked it up to Steve being a grade-A asshole, the likes of which Tony couldn't reconcile with the hurt that spiked every time his mind re-realised 'Steve killed me. My best friend killed me.'

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Since the doors had shut in his face, Steve had seen neither hide nor hair of Tony Stark. And while it was obvious that the man was angry—rightly so, no one else saw him either. That was to say, no one else knew he was alive again. And it had been two days.

Steve was going absolutely insane with it. The weight of it on his shoulders. The burn of it in his mouth, the unspoken words hot on his tongue. A secret he was dying to spill before it ate him up inside. He decimated four heavy bags and perfected his back quintuple twist. Because there was definitely going to be a day when he needed that skill. He needed to tell someone. Anyone. 'Hello. My best friend that I might be romantically attracted to is alive again. That's my fault. Incidentally, he hates me. That's also my fault; I killed him.' This was no better than his burgeoning paranoia concerning Tony in the first place, seeing him everywhere.

Steve almost wept in relief when the Avenges were called. He couldn't help but wonder if it would be Tony inside the suit this time. His gut clenched, heart pounding. Steve didn't know what he would do. He was at the Quinjet in record time, the engines prepped and warming. Steve drooped when Rhodes clanked up the ramp, helmet not on. Futzing with the controls a minute after everyone was on board, Steve ignored how stale everything felt. How incomplete.

Going through the motions, Steve made the calls, lead his team. His mind, however, was on Tony. And every time the suit flew buy, he was struck by how not-right it looked. The lack of grace it had, compared to Tony. How it was more of a tool in Rhodes' hands than a second skin like it was to Tony.

He really should get his head in the game. These earth creatures were proving to be a little tricky, reforming when they'd been broken down. Steve grunted as he found himself pitched forward over the rails of the bridge. There's that quintuple backflip, Steve thought absently as he twisted while he fell. He'd be fine. He'd fallen from higher. Steve had—he grunted as he was hit.

No.

Not hit. Snagged out of the air. Steve's heart leapt, craning his head around to see the familiar colours of the Iron Man suit. “To—”

“Figured you'd appreciate the lift,” Rhodes said.

The blooming hope shrivelled as Steve managed a stiff, “Yeah. I could. Thanks. I appreciate it.” It was quick work after that. James blasted the creatures with a flamethrower to dry them out and then Carol hit them with her powers, making them explode.

They all trudged back to the Quinjet, Spider-woman volunteering to fly. Taking a seat in the back, Steve slumped, feeling so incredibly weary. The others gave him wide berth. Save for Carol. Then it hit him. Steve swallowed back a groan as he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Intervention.

“Gonna tell me what the problem is, Cap?” Her stare was hard, rolling her eyes when Steve just looked back at her flatly. “Don't pull this, Steve. Obviously something's wrong. We're concerned. You've been...”

“Go ahead,” he said flatly. “Say it.”

Carol fixed him with another hard look. “Off. Unfocused. Making bad calls. Distant.”

Steve nodded along with her assessment.

“So?” she prompted. “Any explanation? If something's wrong, let someone help you. Let me help. I'll listen, if that's all you need. We talked about this before, Steve.”

He shook his head. “Thanks. But I...don't think this is something I'm ready to talk about just yet.”

“Okay. Okay, that's fine. But get your head back in the game or take some time. Whatever you need. But the team looks to you. So we need to be able to rely on and trust you.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” she challenged sharply.

“Yes, Carol,” Steve replied firmly. “I understand. If I don't have some things straightened out by our next call, the team is yours. I'll step down. Take some time. As you recommend,” he promised.

“None of us  _want_ this, Cap. We just—”

“It's fine,” Steve interrupted, suddenly  _needing_ to get back. See Tony. Talk to him. “I know. I've been...distracted. But it'll be fine. I'll get my head on straight. It's okay. I'll take care of things.” Steve even summoned up a smile for her, to reassure. And hoped it worked.

Carol stared at him a moment longer before giving him a curt nod and then relaxing in her seat. The rest of the flight was quiet, introspective. On everyone's part, apparently as the banter and ribbing that sometimes bubbled up after a fight was conspicuously absent. Steve wondered if that was his fault too.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony thought about it. Of swooping in. 'Hey guys! Surprise! Not dead anymore.' But even if he had... They didn't need his help. They had Carol, Jessica, Thor, Jan, and  _Rhodey_ as a powerful air support group. Clint too, sort of. And then Scott, Steve, and Luke as the ground team. He didn't— _they_ didn't—need any more fliers. 

As he gazed at the live feed of the fight, the urge to go slowly bled away with that realisation. So he stayed in his bed with his tablet, having returned from a trip to the kitchen, taking advantage of them all being tone to get some food. What was he even doing here. They had an Iron Man. Not him, but—no. No, that was  _not_ fair! “That's the patented Iron Man/Captain America catch!” he complained to the empty room, his heart clenching in his chest. Tony shut off the feed as the team finished up.

Hacking into the team's comms was easier than breathing, seeing as they hadn't changed their frequencies or firmware in Tony's absence. Lazy. Clint was making some complaints about how he smelled as they took their seats in the jet. Tony also caught most of Carol and Steve's exchange, frowning as everything lapsed into silence. 'Take care of things?' What did that mean?

The jet arrived, and Tony imagined everyone was headed to their respective showers before debrief. So he was surprised when there was a knock at his door and Steve poked his head in.

“Don't you have debrief?” he blurted, beginning to scramble to sit up, right himself. Then remembered that it was only Steve, and Tony wasn't going to be bothered. Flopped over onto his side, leaning his head in his hand with a practised air of ease and confidence.

But all Steve did was blink. “I...yes? But I wanted to stop by. And see if you were free. After. To talk.”

“'Stop by?'” Tony echoed sceptically. “Stop by.”

“Yes,” Steve said stoutly.

“Right. Well. No, Steve,” Tony drawled, putting as much arrogant insouciance behind it as possible. “I've got interviews lined up, meetings, a fitting with my tailor, who has, no doubt, missed my money, and meetings with my lawyer, not to mention the autograph signings with my adoring fans...” He watched, with vicious amusement, as Steve's brow knit in all-too-real concern before the expression melted into sullen frustration and anger as the man realised that Tony was being a sarcastic shit.

“That's not funny,” he said, voice hard.

“Isn't it? I've got people lining up to—oh wait. No I don't. I'm dead. No one cares.”

Steve winced. “Don't say that. It's not true.”

Tony did sit then, angry, folding his arms. “If you look at the fraction of people who honestly care,  _Steve_ , it's so small, it may as well be counted as zero.”

“But we're not looking at fractions, Tony! We're talking about  _people_ !”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don't know if you've noticed, Steve, but my being dead and all? Doesn't matter. Everything's rolling along just fine. Like I'd never even been here.”

“Because that's what people do, Tony! They move on! It's natural! It's  _healthy_ !”

Tony hummed smugly. “Oh? So what are you calling this obsession you've got with me then, Cap?”

Steve went pale.

“Good talk. Go take care of your debrief. I'm a very important man.” And then dropped his gaze obviously to his tablet, making a show of being busy.

Steve didn't take the hint after a moment of shifting his weight back and forth, like a child with a question they couldn't quite voice. “Tony...”

“Get a clue, and get out of my sight,” he said emotionlessly, still not looking up at him.

“Tony, I need—”

“No, you know what?” he snapped, glaring up at him. He didn't have to take any of the manipulative shit. “You don't get to need anything right now, Steve. You don't get to need one damned thing from me. One. God. Damned. Thing!”

“I do!” Steve said, body tightening up as his hands balled. “I  _want_ to ta—”

Tony put his tablet down, on his feet in a flash. “You don’t want to talk, Cap,” he said coldly. “You're not ready for that conversation.”

Eyes going wide at whatever he saw in Tony's face, everything in Steve seemed to shut down and he wilted back. Submission. Wrung his hands. Nodded finally and turned on his heel, slinking from the room.

When he'd gone, Tony relaxed and heaved a sigh. That wasn't, to be honest, a conversation he was ready for either. He wasn't ready for much else either, though. Hell, he still couldn't decide if he wanted to come back to 'life' or not.

“Sir?” Jarvis said, hurrying in. He relaxed as soon as he saw him. “I heard...”

Him and Steve arguing? Likely. “I'm fine, J,” he said tiredly. “Just fine. Hey. Do you know if my phone is somewhere?”

His man nodded, set down the tray he'd brought. “Indeed.” Then reached into his jacket, pulling it from a pocket. “I thought you might request it.”

“You're the best, Jarv,” Tony murmured, taking it from him. He looked up at the man. “All my suits are on lockdown still, right?”

“Save for the one Master Rhodes is—”

“Yeah, yeah. Except for the one Rhodey's using,” Tony mused, unlocking his phone. Charged and everything. Jarvis was a saint. There were some unread messages. He deleted them all. He needed a fresh start maybe. Tony sighed. “Thanks for the food, J.” He sat down with his phone, his man listening to the obvious dismissal.

Jarvis paused at the doorway, however. “I am glad Sir is back...”

Looking up, surprised, Tony blinked at him.

“I am,” he repeated firmly.

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “So I shouldn't stay 'dead?'”

“Certainly not,” Jarvis replied stoutly. “This world needs you.”

“Huh.” Tony stared at the phone in his hands. “And yet my stock went up after my death.”

Jarvis frowned at him, disapproving. “And numbers mean nothing when we're talking about people. Call Mrs. Hogan. Mrs. Arbogast. I'm sure you'll find them relieved and overjoyed to have you back. As will most of Resilient.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I'll go out for a surprise visit...”

“Hopefully not  _too_ much of a surprise,” Jarvis replied dryly.

Tony chuckled for the first time in a while. “Right. Plane or suit?”

“I would recommend the jet, Sir,” Jarvis said, lips twitching. “Shall I ready it?”

“Am I still poor, J?”

“Sir was never poor. But Sir's bank account does more closely resemble what it had been in past days.”

“Yeah...!” Tony murmured. “I know.” They were using his bank account as a secondary draw for the Maria Stark Foundation. Tony had gone in and changed that. “Okay. Jet it is.” Tony sighed and looked around. “This afternoon please.”

Jarvis nodded and then gave a little bow as he left.

Tony, meanwhile, ate and took a shower. Then packed a small bag, scheduled an appointment for first thing the next morning at Resilient and gave himself a haircut. And booked a hotel. Under an alias.

Jarvis came up, handed Tony his favourite pair of shades and then took him to the air strip. “You will say hello to Mrs. Hogan and Mrs. Arbogast for me?”

“Of course,” Tony agreed, staring out the window as the city passed by. “Oh. How are you and May?”

“Mrs. Parker and I are perfectly fine. She is currently enjoying a vacation with Peter,” Jarvis replied stiffly.

He hummed, amused. “So you guys had a little fight?”

“That's not what I said....”

“I can read between the lines.” Tony chuckled and let it go. It was weird leaving New York and it not being a national ordeal. No one knew. No one cared. He was a ghost. Pretty literally. He climbed up to the jet when they arrived, slumping into one of the seats. He'd told Jarvis to keep it all quiet, obviously. The man had been offended he'd even had to ask.

Sleeping most of the flight, Tony dozed as they landed. A cab brought him to the hotel. The guy only did one lazy look at him, not glancing at him again since 'Tony Stark was dead.' Checked in, Tony flopped down onto the too-stiff mattress and dozed some more.

Alarm making him flail and gasp awake, Tony panted, falling back and staring at the ceiling before rolling over to shut it off. He got up and showered to clean away the night sweat. Then put on a suit and his shades, skipping the complimentary continental breakfast. He thought about phoning ahead, but Pepper would likely just think it a prank. Bambi would hang up on him. The best evidence of proof was physical.

Tony walked into the lobby, waving at Tina the receptionist and sat until he was called. Bambi did a double-take when he walked in before her mouth pinched fiercely.

“Don't you think your joke is in a bit of bad taste, Mr...?”

“Collins,” Tony lied smoothly. “I'm just here to see Mrs. Hogan.” Tony pointed at the computer with a grin. “I've got an appointment.”

Staring at him, unimpressed, Mrs. Arbogast did check her computer, frown deepening. “Who made your appointment, young man.”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes behind his shades, keeping a smile on by sheer force of will. “I don't know. May I see Mrs. Hogan?”

“And the nature of your meeting?” She picked up the phone, but didn't dial.

“It's up to Mrs. Hogan if she decides to share that with you,” Tony said easily with a one-shouldered shrug.

She hummed again, still unimpressed, but finally dialled the intercom. “Pep, honey, your nine o'clock is here.”

“Okay. Send them in.”

She sounded tired, but not exhausted. Not worn down. As Tony took a few steps towards her office doors, Tony found himself paralysed by second thoughts. Why. Why bring himself back into her world when she was clearly fine. Why cause her more stress and worry when she was probably just about finished with the healing process. He'd been gone for over three years.

“Mr. Collins,” Bambi prompted.

“I...” he shot a quick look at her before Pepper's doors again. “You know what? Never mind. This was...yeah. Bad. Bad idea. I gotta go. Sorry, Bambi. I gotta—” Tony turned and strode out of the office to the elevators, jabbing the button desperately, casting frantic glances back at the office, hoping they wouldn't give chase. Elevator doors opening, three big men stepped out, grabbing his biceps and dragging him back in. “Shit! No! Hey, guys. Guys, let's be reasonable! I can—of course—fucking _shit_ I can walk on my own!” Tony wrenched his arms free of the men, stumbling up to Bambi's desk, shades askew.

Pepper hovered in her doorway, eyes wide before schooling her expression into something cool and professional.

“Thank you, boys,” Mrs. Arbogast said, pleased, folding her arms. “Now. Mr. Collins. Take off the shades please. And then explain why you're intent on interrupting our day of business with a very poor joke? Because I take these kinds of things pretty seriously. Mr. Amin, if you would please remove Mr. Collins' sunglasses.”

“No!” Tony blurted, ducking away from any reaching hands. “I got it. It was a mistake. I'm so sorry. I just... Let me leave please. I'm really sorry, Mrs. Arbogast. Mrs. Hogan. I'm so sorry. I'll get out of your hair.” He cast a look towards Pepper who was slowly walking his way, words stilling on his tongue.

“Tony...?” Pepper said slowly, her face scrunching up in disbelief, something looking like hope written across her brow. “Oh my God, if this is a jo—Tony. Please. Is this real?”

He swallowed tightly, ignoring Bambi's sharp look. “Uh... Hey, Pep.” And slowly, Tony brought his hand up to his shades, pulling them off. Bambi gasped, but his eyes were for Pepper. Her jaw ticked, face expressionless. Then she stomped her heeled foot and cursed a blue streak. Of all the reactions, that maybe wouldn't have been his first guess. Tony blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

“How long?” Pepper demanded. “Were you in hiding? Where the _hell_ have you been? God. I cannot believe you.” She shook her head, lip curled in disgust.

That jarred him back into action. “Woah. Wait a sec, Pep. That's not—I've only been back for three days! Steve brought me back! You're the first person I've told! Jarvis found out. And now of course Bambi, and goons one, two, and three know.”

“Goon two has a taser and he's not afraid to use it,” a voice said from behind him.

Derailed, Tony's mouth flapped as he turned to look at the tall man behind him. “I... Right. I like Goon Two. But—” He looked back at Pepper. “Seriously. I really died. I've _been_ dead. And you're the first person I've actually told,” he said in a small voice.

Pepper's hard stare gentled as she heaved a sigh and pushed her bangs back. “Geeze, Tony. I don't....” Gathering herself with another settling sigh, Pepper crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I'm glad you're back. How did Steve do it?”

“Um...” Tony looked around the reception area. “Can we maybe...” He nodded to the privacy of Pepper's office. “And get a hush order for Goons One through Three before they go anywhere. I'd rather the world didn't know just yet. Bambi—”

“On it, dear,” she said, nails clacking on the keyboard already. “Though our boys wouldn't say anything if you asked them nicely.”

Tony ignored her. Better to be safe than sorry. Seemed to be a trending lesson. Pepper beckoned and Tony followed her into her office. Took a moment to look around. “Like what you've done with the place. I guess it was a good thing I had two and a half years worth of updates on the serv—”

“Don't,” Pepper said sharply. “Don't joke. Not about this.”

Abashed, Tony nodded and kept quiet. Bambi came in a minute later, taking the other chair in the room. “So...you want the story?”

Both women nodded, giving him twin looks of being on their last dregs of patience.

So Tony cleared his throat and related what had happened with Steve just before his death and then the events after Tony's resurrection.

“I'm going to kill him,” Pepper seethed.

He opened his mouth to defend Steve—it wasn't his fault. He didn't mean it. It was accidental. Except... He couldn't do it. Tony couldn't do it. Because it _wasn't_ accidental. Steve _had_ known what he was doing. And Tony was pretty damn sure Steve had meant it.

Wetting his lips, that conscious realisation twisted something in his gut. He wrung his hands and kept quiet in the face of Pepper's anger.

“Tony!”

He jolted, focusing back on her. “Yeah, Pep?”

“Have you.... Why did Steve bring you back?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Tony sighed. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“No!” he said defensively. “I don't know! There's no need for me,” he went on caustically.

“To—”

“No, hear me out. There's no need for me to be back. I'm useless. You've got Resilient running just fine. I checked stocks and financials, and you're doing great. There's no place for me on the team. Rhodey's got that covered. There is literally no reason for me to be here.” A new thought struck him. He wouldn't normally suspect... Maybe. Maybe Steve brought him back just so Tony could _see_ see just how much he wasn't needed. Tony had never really had an inflated sense of self-importance when it came to the idea that the world needed him too much to let him go. Wait, Pepper was talking.

“—so if you're looking for someone to tell you to swan off to the great beyond or something, it's not going to be me,” she was saying firmly. “I need you, Mr. Stark.”

His lips twisted at the familiar exchange. “Thank you, Miss—Mrs. Hogan.”

She looked down at her lap before clearing her throat and meeting Tony's eyes again. “I say you go public again. Come back publicly. Come back here. Work with Resilient. We've got some new people. Everyone will be thrilled. You're still sort of a legend, not that you need that information. But leave New York for a while. Bambi?”

Mrs. Arbogast nodded. “I agree. Come back to us for a while, Tony. Figure yourself out for a little while. It'll be good for you, and it will be good for Resilient staff to see their creator again.”

“I'll think about it,” he said slowly. The idea certainly had its appeal. Away from the Avengers. Away from Steve. “I'm going to go get lunch. I won't leave without saying 'goodbye.' I promise.” Then flashed them both a grin. “You two are the best. Did I tell you that enough. You're the best.” He stood and flipped his shades down, giving the two of the most important women currently in his life a mock salute before he headed out.

Tony caught a cab back to his hotel, hacking the Resilient servers to see what other projects were in the works that maybe he could work on. Room service brought him food and, more importantly, coffee.

It certainly passed the hours as he waffled back and forth on Pepper's offer. When his phone chimed with a text from Pepper inviting him to dinner with her and Mrs. Arbogast, Tony agreed. And then spent a very pleasant evening with them both, hearing about how things had been. The success of the company. Pepper's new-found love of motorcycles. The weird suitor Bambi had picked up who delivered for Fed Ex. The new employees. The expansion from cars. And Tony had a good time. An honest good time. It felt so good his heart ached.

And when they parted, Pepper clasped his arm, giving him a soft, fond smile. “Think about it,” was all she said before bidding him good night. Tony let himself out of Bambi's apartment and went back to his hotel to think.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Give Tony some space. That was the plan of action. Which was fine, because apparently Tony's skills at avoidance and sneaking around had gotten better: Steve didn't see a single sign of Tony for two days. So of course, worry won out in the end. And Steve went to check on him. His bedroom, however, was empty. Steve frowned.

To his knowledge, Tony hadn't let anyone else know he was alive. So it would be risky wandering around the place. And outside. Though if they weren't expecting to see Tony Stark, they wouldn't see Tony Stark. But still.

Steve checked the workshop.

He checked the library.

He checked the garage.

He checked the study.

And when he didn't see Tony in any of those places, Steve maybe began to panic a little. Racing from one Tony-less room to the next, his heart pounded in his chest, breath feeling short like it hasn't since he wore a different shirt size.

“Steve...?”

He almost knocked into Carol, leaving the common room.

“Steve, are you okay?”

“Have you seen him?” he demanded, heading for the kitchen.

“What? Who? Is everything okay? Who are you looking for?” She followed him, voice tinged with concern.

“Tony! Have you seen _Tony_.”

The footsteps behind him paused. “Oh Steve...”

The pity made him angry. “No,” he said, whirling on her. “I'm not crazy. Tony's back.” Not his secret to tell.

“Steve, he's _dead_. You know that....right?” Carol took a tentative step forward, like he were a wild animal.

He scowled. “I brought him back. Tony. I'm not crazy. I'm not.” Then turned to check the pantry, in case Tony was hiding. From the sound of voices.

“Steve,” Carol said, voice firm, brooking no arguments. “Go get some sleep. Take the day off tomorrow. Go. I mean it.”

Lips pursed, Steve wilted and finally headed out of the kitchen to his room. Maybe... Oh God. _Was_ he crazy? Maybe he really had gone crazy. Just imagined Tony. He'd wanted it so badly... Shaking his head, Steve took a shower and then went to bed.

What little sleep he did manage, Steve didn't dream. So when he couldn't fall back asleep around four, he got up, wandering towards Tony's room, needing to find signs that he had been there. Recently. Steve pushed the door open slowly, ready to be confronted with the signs that he'd truly lost it. What he was expecting, he wasn't quite sure. Tony's room was pretty much how it had been left before. No overt signs one way or the other.

Feeling tired again, he sank down onto the floor, leaning his back against Tony's bed. Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city that never slept, he sighed. Steve had touched him. He swore he'd touched him. Though maybe he had gone back. The time gem wore off. Tony was pulled back to the past. Where he was gone. He let his head fall back against the bed and shut his eyes.

“Hey.”

Steve jerked into wakefulness as someone kicked his foot, heart pounding. Eyes wild, Steve looked up. “Tony...” Steve breathed. There he was, duffel slung over his shoulder, shades propped up on his head, MIT hoodie rumpled. Steve laughed, startling himself at the suddenness of it. Tony Stark. In khaki shorts and sandals? That was unreal.

“Steve...?” Tony was saying, face twisted into some complicated amalgam of concerned, confused, and wary. “Can you... Okay, the laughing is sort of creepy. That could stop. Why are you in here?”

Sobering, Steve groaned as he stretched. “Sorry... I... geeze.” He stood, grinning at him a moment before it died. “Thought I'd gone crazy...”

“I'm still not convinced,” he replied dryly, his tone harsh enough to belie it as the cutting remark it's supposed to be. He moved away, dumping his bag out on the short divan against the wall. “But you haven't answered my question.”

“I... Where did you go?” he winced as the question came out sharper than intended. “I mean...I looked for you. But couldn't find you. I got worried.”

“That you'd gone crazy,” Tony supplied in that same bored way, like he was waiting for just the perfect moment to drop the verbal bomb on his interviewer to turn the whole thing around and prove how dumb everyone really was compared to him.

“Geeze,” Steve muttered, rubbing his temples. “Yes. But no? It worried me that I didn't know where you'd gone.”

“Because it was the difference between you going crazy or not.”

“Well that too, Tony, but you can't just vanish on me like that—”

“Oh can't I?”

Shit. There it was.

Tony's gaze turned on him, sharp and cold. “And why would that be, Cap. I mean, it's not like I'm your responsibility or anything. It's not like I'm on your _team_. You don't have any obligations to me. I'm _dead_ after all.”

Steve winced.

“I don't technically exist anymore. So I owe you exactly _nothing_ , Cap. Nothing. Because my current existence? Is mine. So back the hell off. Or would you kill me again if we did that scene over one more time.”

Dropping his gaze, Steve's hands fisted uselessly at his sides. Because he certainly wasn't going to raise his hands to Tony ever again.

“Hm. Nothing to say? Imagine that... Was it worth it?” Tong challenged, throwing Steve's words from another similarly-charged argument back in Steve's face.

He flinched again, a whole body thing and stared shame-faced at the ground between them. “No...” Steve breathed, scarcely more than air between his lips as his throat closed up.

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony said mockingly.

“I said 'no,' Tony!” Steve snapped. “What do you want! For me to say 'I'm glad it was my fault? That I wanted this?!' No! No, it wasn't fucking worth it, okay?! Was it worth it for you?”

Tony's eyes went wide at the challenge, guilt flashing across his face before hardening again. “No,” he finally replied, voice low and sullen. “But we're not talking about that, Steve. We made our peace on that issue long ago.”

“And yet it keeps on rearing its ugly head; same thing, different face! It always boils down to the same thing, Tony. You being so _sure_ of yourself that you feel you don't need to talk to me so we can make the decision _together_!”

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. “For fuck's sake, Cap. We're not some married couple making household decisions for the fam—”

“Aren't we?” he shot back, nearly shouting to match Tony's heated tones. Steve opened his mouth to amend, to fix, to edit, because _damn_ that is not what he wanted to imply. But the door flew open, Carol and Luke standing in the doorway. It was almost comical, the play of emotions passing over their faces: surprise to shock to confusion to assumptions made to pity.

“Oh Steve...” Carol said gently.

“I'm not a hologram or an LMD,” Tony said flatly, sighing as he rubbed his temples. “Yes, I'm back, only have been a few days; no, I didn't do it; yes, I know everything; any other questions? Ask Rogers. He brought me back.”

He had to struggle not to quail under their harsh stares. But Steve drew his spine straight, mind still cluttered with his argument with Tony. “I...found the Time gem and then suddenly Tony was there. In front of me.”

“And there's the short version,” Tony said, voice cutting in a way he never really used with Steve.

Carol dropped her face into her hand. “I...don't even want to—Jesus.” She looked up at Tony. “I'm really glad you're back, Tony.” Eyes softening, she crossed to Tony and gave him a quick hug. “Let's talk later, okay?”

Tony nodded stiffly and Carol looked back to Steve. “We....should probably have a team meeting. Because I may have told the team that you lost it and needed to be benched. So. With the discovery that Tony is back in the land of the living and not part of your delusion... A reassessment is in order.” She gave him a sort of sheepish grin, unapologetic. “So...”

Luke sighed, still in the doorway. “I'm getting too old for this shit.”

“Can we make this not common knowledge, please?” Tony requested, still subdued. “I'm not ready for the public eye yet. Well. I'm always ready. I'd just rather not deal with it. Now. Can everyone please get out of my bedroom.”

“Tony—”

“Including you, Cap,” the man said firmly. “I need to shower. And while I know that it's a great national past time to catch Tony Stark in the nude, there's no party here.”

Steve swallowed everything down, his belly twisting from the indigestion the unspoken words gave him. Later, apparently. Because he wasn't done. But he bowed out of the ring for now, shutting the door behind him and taking two seconds to mentally gather himself before facing Luke and Carol.

“Sorry, Steve,” she said. “But you have to admi—”

“I know.” He cut her off too harshly. “It's fine. I'd have done the same. A lot sooner. It's fine. Just let me—I'll give the whole story at the meeting.”

“Okay. Okay, Cap,” she agreed easily.

Steve looked at Luke expectantly.

The man just shrugged. “I don't have anything to add.”

“Fine,” Steve gave them both a sharp nod and then retreated to his room to gather himself. And maybe hide his wounded ego.


	6. Chapter 6

He contemplated going to the meeting. Tony'd overheard and honestly thought about walking in all Tom Sawyer-like, but in the end, didn't. He instead went down to his untouched workshop and put some files together. Collected some other information and then grabbed up one of his suitcase armours. Then returned to his room to pack for Seattle. For Resilient.

The knock at the door didn't really startle him. He'd expected someone. That it was Jan was also not surprising.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Jan,” Tony replied, collecting some shirts from his closet.

“Ouch,” she said lightly, stepping into the room.

Tony sighed and turned to face her, injecting more warmth into his voice. “Sorry. I'm just a bit preoccupied.”

“Where are you going?” She linked her hands behind her back, rocking forward to peer at his bag.

“Seattle,” he replied shortly.

Jan pulled a face. “What are you going to do _there_?”

“Work for this charming little start-up company,” he drawled wryly. “I hear it's destined for great things. Resilient? You may have heard of it.”

Frowning, Jan rolled her eyes. “You can do that here. Come on, Tony. Why do you need to go all the way out there? Is this because of Steve? Because you guys have been here before. And he's honestly been the most abysmal wreck since you... Well.” She shrugged awkwardly.

“Sorry, Jan. I'm leaving. For a while. Get myself sorted. You know? I've always been best at starting from floor zero. You know that.”

Jan sighed, but her expression softened. “You could let people help you once in a while...”

“I'll have Pepper and Bambi and the staff. I'll be fine.” Tony paused. “Uh.... How did Rhodey take it?” Tony was honestly surprised he hadn't been the first one up.

Jan shrugged. “He...you know... I don't know.”

“He didn't say an—”

“He didn't say anything. Sorry, Tony,” Jan interrupted gently, stretching a hand out to pat his arm. When Tony didn't push her away, she threw her arms around him. “I'm glad you're back,” Jan confessed quietly.

It took him a second to realise the hug, then Tony sighed and returned it, holding Jan close. “Thanks,” he murmured into her hair.

Her eyes were damp when she pulled back. “I mean it, too. And it's fine if you want to go spend time out with the yuppie hipsters, but your home is here.”

Tony shook his head. “Hasn't been for a while.”

“Yes it _has_ ,” Jan said fiercely. “Just because you and Steve are figh—”

“It's _not_ because Steve and I are fighting! That's not—we aren't—! It's not even fighting!” Tony sputtered for words, irritation sparking. “We can't be...” Sighing gustily, Tony dragged his hands through his hair. “I need to go get myself in order. Cap can do his thing with the Avengers. I'll even do tech for you guys if you really want. But you don't need me. The funding is sti—”

“If you think it's about the toys and the money after _all these years_ ,” Jan interrupted harshly, “then you're a real idiot!”

His lips twitched in a grin. “I... Okay, Jan.” It was pointless to argue. Not with Jan. “The point was, you don't need me here. You've got a complete team. I'm extraneous. Just taking up space. So I'll take my brilliance somewhere it'll do some good,” he joked weakly.

“Oh Tony...” Jan tutted, her expression softening. “I fully expect you to respond to any and all invites. And _please_....” she cupped her hands against his cheeks. “Please come visit. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tony hid a small smile.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

So Tony left for Seattle. It was a month before he let on to social media that he was Back in Black. He breezed over his resurrection tips and tricks with with glib non-answers and charming smiles.

It took another five months for the media to really calm down about his resurfacing.

Another thirty five days and a new Stark phone launch later, Rhodey came to visit.

Tony invited him down to the workshop he'd set up, figuring he needed repairs. “Right?” Tony asked over his shoulder, striding across the room like he was _trying_ to pretend nothing was wrong. “I mean, no proper mechanic to look at the thing for almost four years....” he tutted, gesturing for Rhodey to stand up on the rig that would take the suit off. Rhodey said nothing. The rig de-suited him, leaving his friend in more comfortable dress. But Tony turned towards the displays, already running diagnostics. “I don't know how long this will take. But you're more than welcome to help yourse—augh!” Tony's head snapped back as he reeled from Rhodeys' punch. “I mean...not like I haven't seen this scene a few dozen times too many...” he complained, rubbing his aching jaw. “But what the fu—”

“Don't you dare bullshit me!” his friend snarled. “What the hell, Tony. Where is your head. No call. No text. No fucking email?”

“What?” Tony said, squinting at him, lip curling.

“We're best friends? And yet, I get nothing from you ever since you've been back.”

He snorted derisively. “A phone goes two ways, Rhodey. People knew I was leaving. It wasn't a big secret. You could have contacted me. After all, I've been busy since come back from the dead. And that's _without_ being an Avenger.”

“Which you could be at the drop of a hat, if you so much as said the word.” His friend stared him down, flinging an arm wide at all the mechanical paraphernalia laying around. “You got a suit?”

“Thinking of going back to the gold and black, since you've got the red.”

Rhodey made a noise of frustration. “Man....you're not getting it... I will _give this back to you if you ask._ Just ask me. I'll go back to War Machine. I dig it better. You can _come back_.”

Tony blinked and then laughed at him. “Okay, first, Rhodey, no one 'digs' anything anymore. And I don't _want_ to come back. Geeze. Let's get a beer, I'll fix your suit, and you can stay a few days. I'll treat you. Sound good?” He went to throw an arm around his friend's shoulders.

Rhodey stepped away, mouth tight and angry. “Damn, Tony. You really are an asshole. I kept waiting for you to come and explain everything. Because we're friends. And friends do that. You know? Because friends care. So then you never showed! And here I am thinking... Well, what the fuck...!?”

“Well you're an idiot for waiting on _me_...” Tony retorted, folding his arms. “Come on. You really should have known better than that.”

“Don't you dare play things like that. You're not _that_ much of an asshole,” he snapped. “You should have said _something_. _Any_ thing!”

“And you could have come to see me sooner,” Tony snapped back.

Opening his mouth, Rhodey shook his head. “I didn't come here to argue about this. I... Listen. I'm actually glad to see you. Glad you're back. I'm....glad you're working. Okay? Peace offering. I'm sorry I punched you, man.”

Tony just waved it away with a hand. “Dick move, forgotten it already. The suit could _definitely_ use some repairs. I can get 'em done in a day. Sorry, sugar, that'll—”

“Tony.... I'm not here for repairs. Well. Not that that wouldn't be nice, but I came to see _you_ , not bring my proverbial car by for a tune-up from the best mechanic doing the job.”

“Aww... I'm touched,” Tony said in lieu of taking it seriously. “But really... Who's been doing work while I was gone? It looks awful.”

“Well you know how you've got a similar set up back home? All your robots and machines are smart enough to do the repairs if ordered. So Steve put in his override and things got taken care of to the best of their abilities. Keeps it running, anyway. I learned a bit too.”

“Steve...” Tony mused quietly. “Of course.”

“Hey, man. It's been my saving grace. Don't get mad. It's not like you were—” Rhodey cut off with an unhappy twist of his mouth.

“It's not like I needed it or would care since I was dead,” Tony filled in for him flatly.

“Jesus, Tony...” he rasped.

Shrugging casually, Tony turned away to look at the diagnostic report. “It's fine. Seriously. I was dead. What use did I have for it. You weren't going to hurt feelings. And hey.... I'm glad the suit has lasted you. I'm glad you got the repairs you needed.”

“Don't be going all passive-aggressive on me, Tony. You're my best friend. I've been doing my best to live up to the name Iron Man any time I go out. You know how Steve looks at me sometimes? Besides like he's surprised it's me instead of you.... Like I'm not good enough.”

Tony laughed. “Honeybear. That's a normal feeling around the man with a plan. That's nothing new.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Uh-uh. It's more like I'm not good enough to be flying your suit.”

“There's literally no one else I would have chosen, if this were to happen my way.” Tony interrupted flatly with a frown.

“No, I _know_ that. I'm talking about Cap being disappointed that it's _me_ inside there instead of _you_. He wants _you_ back, Tony.”

He groaned. “Oh God. Now I _know_ that's a steaming load,” he said sharply. “Because I've _seen_ video footage. Yes, I still know the comms frequency. Everything goes so smoothly for you guys. Steve.... He always had to tell me off for not following The Plan. He never has to do that with your team now.”

Rhodey folded his arms, unimpressed. “And yet do you know how many times he's called or almost called me 'Tony?' Or 'Stark?' Or some variation of whatever he used to call you? He called me—actually called me 'Shellhead' once. And then of course looked so stricken he dodged team training.”

He scoffed wordlessly. “Let me introduce you to my close and personal friend, Guilt, Rhodey.”

“Tony—Good Lord, man, you are one thick son of a bitch,” his friend complained. “Fine. I give up. You know that? Here's me. Giving up. Because you two are the biggest, dumbest, _stubbornest_ numbskulls I have _ever_ had the misfortune of meeting.”

“Well,” Tony drawled, “tell me how you really feel.”

“I'm giving up. So let's go out for not-drinks or some shit, because I didn't fly my ass out here just for a tune-up. Okay? Okay.”

Chuckling at the end of his rant, Tony shook his head. “Alright, alright. Coffee? I know a place.”

“Of  _ course _ you know a place...” Rhodey's grin faded and his expression sobered. “Hey. I'm... Second chances are... I've missed you.”

“We need to hug it out?” Tony asked, eyes wide and faux-somber.

“Man...” Rhodey shoved his shoulder. “Don't be a dick. You were gone. You're my best friend, Tony. That means something to me.”

He shifted uncomfortably, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“No. No, don't get like that. I just want you to know. I think it's a better world with you in it. Alright? Just nod and say 'Yes, Rhodey' and then we'll move on, okay?'

“Yes, Rhodey,” Tony mumbled, equal parts amused and mortified. “So.” He cleared his throat. “You and Carol...?”

Huffing a laugh, Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Yes. Me and Carol.”

Tony gave him an appraising look and then nodded. “Nice.”

“Glad I have your approval,” the man said wryly.

Rhodey stayed a week before heading back to new York where he would undoubtedly report back to Steve. Tony knew he would. Despite their words exchanged. That was fine. He had other things to worry over. Like the final design of the Beta Car. It was going to be a huge launch. He, Pepper, and Bambi had been working hard on it for three months now, and Tony wasn't going to let it disappoint.

However, three and a half weeks after Rhodey left, Tony made an emergency trip to New York to help out the team. A trial by fire for the new gold and black. Facing a new and improved Wrecking Crew teamed up with Molecule Man, they were having a hard time of it, seeing as Jan was sick, Luke was sick, and Clint had a broken arm, rendering him pretty useless. So Tony flew in.

“Tony?!” Steve blurted in surprise when he saw him, nearly getting his head knocked in in the process.

He didn't bother answering, despite that he was on their frequency. Tony was itching to try out some of his new tricks and toys. So he took on half of the Wrecking Crew to let Steve handle Molecule Man with Jessica.

“Hey, man,” Rhodey said cheerfully. “Good to see you back on home turf.”

Tony looped around Piledriver with a reinforced steel cable, tangling him himself and letting go of the end so it snapped tight to the other loose end, tightening until Piledriver couldn't move.

“Hey,” Rhodey said again, zapping Wrecker with a repulsor. “I know you can hear me. Good to see you. Yo. Tony.”

“Hey, Rhodey,” he said, hacking his old suit's personal frequency.

“What's with the secrecy?” his friend asked.

“Just don't want the whole lot of them eavesdropping. Want to grab coffee after?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah...” Tony said, pretending not to hear Rhodey's exasperation. He didn't want to talk to the rest of the Avengers. Well. Steve. He didn't want to talk to Steve. They needed his help, so he was here, unasked. But it didn't mean he had to be forced into socialising with Steve. “If you don't, it's fine. Just a thought,” Tony added glibly.

“Oh don't pull that crap,” Rhodey shot back.

Tony swooped out of the way of some concrete of newly-projectile status. He hit it before it could fall on anyone, instead shattering it into much less harmful pieces. “I'm not pulling anything,” Tony said primly as the fight wound down.

“Tony? Tony!” Steve called, trotting over when they had everyone apprehended. “Will you please—”

Hovering in the air, Tony ignored Steve. “Well. I'll catch you next time I'm in town!” he said cheerfully to Rhodey. “Later!” And then shot off to return to Seattle.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The next time Tony was in town to help them, Steve called out to him, knowing the man could hear him. After all, Tony responded to his directions. The first order he gave to 'Iron Man,' however, Rhodes and Tony both changed directions mid-flight.

“Which one, Cap?” Rhodes asked, hesitating.

“Which one?” Clint echoed, confused.

“Stark's here,” Rhodes supplied. “Call it, Cap.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve shook his head trying to clear the dysphoria. “Rhodes. You go support Hawkeye. Tony, stay here and help me hold the line.”

Tony hovered in place a moment before drifting closer to Steve and turning to face the advancing bug-like creatures. “Still doubting my intentions...?” Tony said tightly.

Steve's head whipped towards him, agog. “What?!”

“You could have kept Rhodey here. You don't have to keep an eye on me.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Steve blurted. “You're here because you're an asset! Jesus, Tony. How could you even _think_ that I—”

“Give your history of trusting me, Cap... I'd say I'm staying at your side so you can keep tabs.”

“You don't have to prove anything to me, Tony,” Steve said lowly. “I know who you are. And you're here because I _do_ trust you. Okay?”

“Sure, Cap.” And fired off a repulsor at one of the clicking bug-things.

Steve grit his teeth, slinging his shield. “I—”

“As much as we're enjoying the daytime soap drama, boys, can we keep the comms clear?” Carol said testily.

Abashed, Steve fell silent, noticing her swooping overhead down the street, herding the creatures in.

Then, of course, Tony zoomed off in the opposite direction.

“Tony!” Steve snapped. “Hey! What are—get back here!”

“Be ready, Cap,” came the cool response.

He grit his teeth, heart soaring, but standing at the ready for whatever Tony decided to throw at him. And it was certainly a fast pitch. Steve swore lowly, but brought the shield up. They cascaded through the street towards him, Tony behind. He had his hands up, aimed at him. He heard a confused, “Stark?” over the comms but Steve's focus was on Tony, everything else fading away. He raised the shield just as Tony blasted the repulsors, Steve angling the beam out in front of him, mowing the creatures down. Then Tony was on top of him, plucking him up out of the way of the cascade of creatures, only to drop him a block of later, Tony planting himself at Steve's side, backs angled together. “Plan, Cap?”

Steve's heart throbbed, slinging his shield as they approached, single-mindedly. He'd never been happier, blood pounding through his veins. “They don't get past us.” He caught his shield, prepared to throw again when Tony let loose some small missile arsenal and then some device that had the creatures stopping and covering their big leaf-shaped ears. Steve blinked. “What did you do?”

“Super sonic emitter. In a frequency they don't like. Take 'em down, Cap.” Tony went on blasting the creatures until they were all down.

Once done, the clean-up and containment crews moving in, Steve turned to Tony, grinning wide. He held out a hand, feeling rosy and pleased.

“Gotta jet,” Tony said simply and then shot up into the air.

“Tony!” Steve shouted, now feeling small. “Hey! Tony! I need to—Carol, can you fly after him with me?” he demanded, just as she landed.

“Honestly,” she groaned, pushing her hair back out of her face, rolling her eyes. But she grabbed Steve and shot up into the sky after Tony.

“Tony! I want to talk!” Steve shouted at him.

Tony, still on the comms, didn't slow down. “I've got business to attend to; send me an email.”

Steve snarled into the wind. Then, off comms, “Carol. Throw me at him.”

She blinked down at him. “Are you insane?”

“Just do it.”

“Oh my God. You two are the worst. I don't want anything else to do with it!” But she spun, letting Steve loose so he flew after Tony.

Heart leaping into his throat, Steve spread his arms wide, purposely not grabbing onto Tony, though he could have snagged an ankle if he tried. “Tony! Please! I want to talk!” And then his parabolic arc reached its peak and he began to plummet downward.

Tony let out an undignified squawk and dove after him. “What is _wrong_ with you!” he grabbed Steve around the middle and swooped up, landing on the roof of some apartment building. The helmet retracting, Tony was cursing a blue streak. “What! The fuck! Is wrong! With you!”

Steve had rolled, coming to his feet, when Tony dropped him. Pulling the cowl off so this time, the team wouldn't hear their discussion, Steve tossed his head. “I want to talk.”

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “So you send me a damn email! Like I said! Text! Call!”

“In person,” Steve clarified calmly.

Tony growled in frustration. “There are—fucking hell, Steve! You don't get Carol to just lob you after me like a football! What if I hadn't caught you! Oh fuck, if I hadn't caught you...” Tony paled, staggering back.

“Tony!” Steve followed, hands raised to grab him if need be.

“Don't!” he warned sharply, breathing hard.

“I knew you would,” Steve said gently. “You always do.”

“Oh fuck you, you manipulative asshole!” Tony spat, turning in a tight circle, pacing.

“Tony!” Steve entreated. “Please. Please just... Will you listen?” He held his hands out, palms up, shoulders hunched to seem smaller. “Please. Will you come home?”

Tony folded his arms, expression cold and unmoved. “That's where I was headed.”

He shook his head. “The Tower. Please, Tony. I want you to come back. Me.”

Eyes narrowing, Tony stilled. “Can't, Cap,” he said, voice deceptively light.

“Yes you can!” Steve said firmly. “I _want_ you to come home. I do. I want you to be Iron Man again.” His heart thudded in his throat, afraid he was giving too much away.

“You have an Iron Man,” he replied, almost sneering. “You don't nee—”

“We have War Machine. Walking in Iron Man's shoes. But they don't fit quite right.”

“Well, shit. Maybe it's the name. You'll just never be happy with Iron Man,” he drawled.

Steve stomped a foot. “Dammit, Tony! Would you stop purposely misunderstanding me!” he shouted.

Tony only laughed. “Then stop hiding the agenda.”

“What. Agenda? Tony. I'm not—! I don't...” He pushed his hands through his hair with a snarl. “How much plainer do I need to be! I want you back! I _miss_ you! I want you home!”

Tony stared at him, unmoved.

“You. Anthony Edward Stark. I want _you_ back at the Tower, drinking your coffee like it were a lifeline, staying up too late, watching stupid television with me...” Steve cut himself off. He looked up at Tony, hopeful. His shoulders slumped when the man didn't say anything. “Please? I...” Steve swallowed thickly. “Tony. Please. I'm sorry. I want my best friend back.”

Tony's expression twisted into something Steve didn't recognize. But it was gone too quickly for him to identify it or decipher it, shuttered behind this cold exterior Tony fed him. “Should have thought about that before you killed me, Cap.”

He couldn't breathe. Steve's jaw slack, he felt sucker-punched to the solar plexus. And couldn't do anything when Tony took off again. Leaving him stranded on some apartment complex roof. Alone again, wondering if things really were broken for good.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

Tony had a long flight home to process. Well. Not really. But he side-tracked to Mount Rushmore, and, sitting amongst the dead presidents, he focused on Steve's face, instead of the view. The wounded droop of his face at Tony's last retort. That...had maybe been overkill. And unnecessary. A stab to the back. Yeah. He shouldn't have done that.

On the field, it had been back to the same old, same old. Except they still had that...thing. Connection. Ability to read each other's mind that always gave them an edge. Whatever it was.

And it had been nice. Having that back. Falling into that pattern. Getting into the groove. It—

“Sir! I need you to get off the national monument!” a voice came over a loud speaker.

Sighing, Tony stood and dove off of Washington's forehead, taking to the skies to get home.

Washington. Not the Tower. Not New York. Not anymore.

 

His thoughts must have carried over, because the next day Pepper finally snapped at him. “What is the _matter_ with you! That's the eighth time you've sighed, and it's only just after ten!”

Tony blinked, pushing back from his desk and spinning his chair in a lazy circle. “Sorry. I'm just thinking about yesterday.”

Pepper blinked, and straightened, the ire changing into something protective. “Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?” she asked, already searching across her desk for the phone.

“He wants me back at the Tower. 'Home.'”

Her lips pursed, eyes narrowing. But she didn't pick up the receiver. “Home,” she echoed.

Tony finally looked at her, nodding. “I can't...” He sighed again, pulling at his hair with a groan. “I think he means it. Meant it. I said—well. He doesn't just want to keep an eye on me.”

“Well that's an improvement,” Pepper said caustically, lacing her fingers in front of her. When Tony was silent a long moment, she prompted him with his name.

“I'm really sorry,” he murmured finally.

“What?”

Tony stood, pacing. “For always doing this.”

“This,” Pepper echoed flatly.

“Dying. Making you think...” Tony waved his hands around. “Did I ever apologise? For the last time? Shit. No wonder he gets so mad...”

“Tony. Don't you _dare_ go down that road. I've forgiven and forgotten. For better or worse. You don't need—”

“No, but that's just it. I get away with all this shit, because I'm injured. Because I'm dying. Because... I don't remember the whole fucking thing—and then I never say I'm sorry.”

“I'm going on lunch,” Pepper said flatly, standing.

Rushing to her side, Tony gripped her hand. “And then I never say how grateful I am that you stick by me. Seriously, Pep. I joke about it, but I honestly don't know what I'd do without you.”

She stared at him a moment, face blank, before asking, “Are you dying?”

“What?! No! No, I'm fine, actually.”

“Are you going back to New York?”

“Also, no,” Tony told her firmly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I'm staying right here.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Huh?” That threw him for a loop. Tony withdrew his hands, hurt.

“I think Steve's trying to make up with you,” Pepper said gently.

Tony scowled. “Not interested. Or—” he continued as Pepper opened her mouth. “ _Or_ , he has to try a whole hell of a lot harder.”

Her lips twitched as she shook her head. “Well look at you being all particular. I don't think it's a bad thing. You've always been quick to forgive Steve. So, I guess I'm glad. Good for you, Tony. Now. I'm going to get coffee, Mr. Stark. Your usual?”

“You're a godsend,” he said gratefully, stepping close to kiss her cheek. Then returned to his desk to finish up the blueprints he needed for the improvements to the Beta Car.

Every so often, however, the thought would pop into his head. Over the next three or so weeks, it would come: Go back to New York?

Go back To New York. What for?

So he dismissed it. There was nothing for him in New York. His company was here. His people were here. He wasn't an Avenger. Not anymore.

Tony lounged on the sofa in his little apartment, staring at the TV, not really watching whatever was on. Thinking. He jumped when his phone rang. Frowned at the caller ID. “What can I do for you, Cap?”

“Hey, Tony.”

“What do you need?” he asked again.

“You said to call...” Steve sounded hesitant.

“What? I did?”

“You did,” Steve continued. “The last time we saw each other.”

Oh. Right. “Alright. You called,” Tony prompted.

“I don't think....” Steve began. Tony could hear him take a deep breath. “I wanted, while we're both... not in a moment... to apologise. For everything. I over-reacted. And I never specifically apologised. And I wanted to. So. I'm sorry.”

Tony stared at his TV screen, phone next to his ear.

“Tony...?”

“Yeah!” he said, too-sharp, too quickly. “Still here.”

“Okay.” Steve must have taken that as a cue to continue. “Okay. I... just let me make my pitch.”

Tony wasn't stopping him.

“I know 'I'm sorry' doesn't really cover it. Those... are just words. But I want to prove it to you. Tony, you're an important part of the team! You—”

“All we do is fight, Steve,” he interrupted. “We've been here before. All we do is fight, and then you get mad and—”

“I like it when we fight!” he blurted.

His face screwed up, doubting that very much.

“I _do_! I know what you're probably thinking. But Tony, you don't understand. I've been going _crazy_! Everyone _listens_. No one challenges me like you do! And I can't take it anymore!”

Tony didn't even know what to say.

“Tony?” Steve tried hesitantly. Again, “Tony?”

“What do you expect me to say, Steve?”

The other man heaved a small smile. “I... I don't know... Come back home?”

“That isn't home for me, Steve.” Unnecessarily harsh. Tony frowned.

“It... could be again...?” he offered, hopeful. And when Tony didn't reply, Steve went on to fill the silence. “I know 'I'm sorry' is just words. And I know you have every right to be furious. Hate me. I get it, Tony. I get it. If there's anyone... After everything... Apparently we can't help but hurt each other. But I hope you can forgive me someday. I want to make it up to you however you'll let me. And don't you dare just say 'it's fine.' You're... my best friend. And you deserved better than that from me. I lost my temper. No one makes me angry like you, though, Tony. And that's not an excuse. It's just because I care so much. And everything is always _closer_ when it's you. I...” Steve trailed off.

Again, Tony was at a loss for words. He swallowed. “Uh... Thank you. For the apology,” he finally said stiffly.

“So you'll—”

“But I don't think I'm coming back to New York.”

“But—”

“I'll come and help if you need it. But you've got a full team. You don't need me,” he said, tipping and stretching out on the sofa to stare at the ceiling.

“I _do_ need you! Rhodes isn't Iron Man! He's War Machine!” Steve insisted, frustration plain in his tone.

Tony rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “I...can't go round and round with you, Steve. I've got things I need to do. I think it's better. Rhodey's doing great. Like I said. I'll be your emergency reserve. But you don't need me.”

“I don't _care_ if I don't need you; I _want_ you!”

Blinking at the vehemence in his voice, Tony was once again silent a moment. “Steve.”

“You know what I mean!” Steve blurted, back-pedalling quickly. “I want you around. I want you back here. To... hang out. Eventually. If you're interested. Like we used to. Shit. I'll just. You've got—I'll let you get back to it. Sorry, Tony. Bye.”

On his list of weirdest conversations with Steve—because one could probably be made—this might have topped the charts. Tony sighed and dropped his phone on his belly. Getting to his 'things he needed to do,' Tony dropped an arm over his eyes and dozed away the rest of the afternoon and early evening. He woke after nine, heading up to shower and get some actual sleep.

When he wandered into work the following morning, Pepper frowned at him. “What?” Tony said defensively.

“You're on time.” She glanced at her watch. “Scratch that, you're _early_...” Narrowed her eyes. “What happened.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony snagged his coffee off of Bambi's desk. “Relax, Mrs. Hogan. Nothing happened. I'm fine. I know we've got that presentation today for the investors, so I'm here.”

Pepper followed him into his office. “Tony?”

“Seriously, Pep. I'm fine. Steve called last night. Afternoon. Whatever. We had a little chat. That's all. Nothing really...anything. He wants me to come back to New York. Still.” He dropped into his chair heavily, mouth twisting in a sardonic grin. “Said he _wanted_ me...” He looked up at Pepper and snorted, curling his hands around the hot mug. “Don't worry. Not like that.”

Her head tilted. “Do you like men?”

Tony's eyes widened. He let out a bark of laughter. “I've experimented. When I was young. I prefer women, but I guess I'm not opposed.” He shrugged.

“Huh,” Pepper said, staring at him speculatively. “I never knew that about you. Well. Maybe you should go back to New York.”

Tony pursed his lips, brow furrowing as he straightened.

“I don't...” Pepper chewed at her lip. “Not like how you're thinking.”

“To get it on with Steve?” he drawled.

“No,” Pepper said, cheeks heating. “I just...have noticed. You've sort of been... listless, Tony. And even with all the projects that we've got going on.... I don't know. I don't notice the same fire behind things. And I don't want that for you.”

“Pepper,” he sighed, “why would I leave everything I have left.”

“Steve wants you back in New York,” she countered. “You two have always been friends, Tony. I know how much that means to you. Even if you two are sort of at odds right now.”

“Oh you mean because he killed me?” Tony said, arching a brow as he laced his fingers together on the desk.

“Don't,” Pepper said firmly. “Tony, how many things have the two of you done to hurt each other? You always figure it out. You're best friends. That's what friends to to one another. _Because_ they're so close, _because_ they care so much, it hurts more.”

Tony dropped his gaze to his hands, lips tight. “So what are you saying I should do?”

“Work things out with Steve. You'll both feel better for it. Take a trip. Go to New York. Resilient will _always_ be here for you. And you can do work from New York. I know you can,” Pepper said gently, walking around her desk. She hesitated a moment, then lifted her hands to his hair, combing through it gently.

“Maybe,” Tony agreed after a nice moment.

“Think about it,” Pepper urged.

“I'll think about it,” he agreed, eyes flicking open when Pepper took her hands away.

“Okay. Good. Now. Let's go over the notes for the demonstration...”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Tony didn't really purposely think about it. The thoughts just wandered through on their own, missing sparring with Steve. Missing Gordan's Coffee down on the corner that was probably fully-funded by the Avengers alone. He missed New York pizza. And the noise of the Avengers in the Tower. And he missed New York period. If he were honest with himself.

However, a month and a half passed by and he hadn't left Seattle. And Steve hadn't called again. Which he didn't think about. He was, of course, apprised of the Avengers' goings-on. And Jan fed him gossip that he protested he didn't want, but secretly craved.

As Tony took a break from working, finding some food left at his desk, his mouth twisted. He did miss his friendship with Steve. Hell, he would give—Tony flailed upright, nearly dropping the gift sandwich. The time gem. God, how had he forgotten! His gut clenched as he grabbed the phone to call Steve. That couldn't be left around. But he didn't dial. This would give him the perfect cover to go back and talk. And if things went badly, then that was his out. He just came back to make sure it was somewhere safe.

He had Pepper make sure the jet was ready for this coming weekend.

Having completely derailed himself from productivity now, Tony went back to the little apartment he'd bought. It was supposed to have been temporary. Until he found a place. But so far, he hadn't found himself a place. He was still place-less. Because he hadn't looked. Hadn't made it a _priority_ to look. Because this wasn't home. Not really.

Tony shook his head. He dropped onto his sofa, turning the TV on as a distraction while he thumbed through the news on his phone. Now that he'd made the decision, Tony was having second thoughts. Steve was clearly interested in reconciliation. And Tony... This was Steve. He'd always let bygones be bygones in the past. For the most part. But then. It had frequently been his fault. So of course, whenever Steve had been ready to forgive him, they'd reconciled.

This time, however, it was Steve's fault. Actually the good Captain's fault. He fucked up. Irrevocably Steve's fault. He knew Tony too well to not have made that mistake without at least a little bit of premeditation. His hands slid over his chest, remembering how it had felt when they'd cracked. Shuddered. Yeah, Steve had fucked up. And apparently when Steve _did_ make mistakes, he made big ones. And Tony... Tony wasn't sure if he was really ready to let it go. If he was ready to be around Steve. (Despite everyone's urging) If he was ready to have an (inevitable) argument with Steve and not bring this up. Because Tony would figure that he would win. Every. Time. And that wasn't a good thing.

But then, he didn't _have_ to forgive Steve yet. This didn't have to wrap things up neatly. Relationships were rarely so kind. He snorted. Like 'mom' and 'dad' making up after the 'divorce.' Again. He wondered what Spider-Man was up to these days.

Tony sighed and slumped on the sofa. It hadn't been long since he'd died. Not for him. He hummed in thought. Maybe this was what it felt like for Steve when he first woke. Still? Just over four years for Steve, dealing with the loss of Tony. He could understand that. Tony had been there.

He ended up sleeping on the sofa—not good for his back. When he woke, Tony made the decision _not_ to tell Steve he was coming. He did tell Jarvis, who promised to have his room ready for him. And a car at the airport.

The rest of the week was predictably a blur. He slept on the flight to New York, new version of the briefcase armour snug and secure at his side. Disembarking, Tony breathed in the New York air, sighing. New York pulled at him. He liked the city. He liked the way it was always busy, always moving. And he couldn't quiet escape the feeling of coming _home_.

“Quite good to see you, Sir,” Jarvis said, opening the door for him after his things (and there weren't many of them—this was a _visit_ , not a _stay_ ) were loaded into the trunk.

If he didn't know better, Jarvis seemed almost excited. “Good to see you too, Jarvis. How's New York. What's the word.”

“Brighter now for your presence,” the man said, tone dry and perfect. “I have not told anyone of your impending arrival.”

“Aww, you're going to make me blush.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Well excellent. Not even the media knows. Good job.”

Jarvis drove the Bentley to the Tower, despite offering that pleasure to Tony. Helped him get his things up to his room efficiently. “Thanks,” Tony said absently, distracted on his phone, checking his latest messages.

“My pleasure, Master Stark. Anything else I can get you?”

He looked up with a fond smile. “Nah. Thanks. I'll be fine.” Tony dropped onto his bed, intending to just shut his eyes a few minutes and ending up dozing off unexpectedly. When he woke, there was a sandwich on a tray for him as well as a cup (cold now) of his favourite coffee. He smiled at it, sitting and eating the sandwich. The mug he carted downstairs with the empty dishes to the kitchen so he could nuke the coffee.

“Stark!!” Carol exclaimed when she saw him. Setting down her bowl of ice cream, she hurried towards him. Grinned and then swept him up in a hug once he'd put his tray down.

“Carol...” he chuckled, patting her back. “Good to see you too.” And it was, Tony found, grinning wider. “How've you been?”

“I'm...doing pretty damn good.” She let him go and stepped back, retrieving her ice cream. “Nice of you to show your face around this half of the country. Why are you here?'

Tony shrugged. “Just some business.”

“Yeah, I hear Resilient is doing pretty well.” She paused. “What with its boss proving the ultimate resiliency...”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Hilarious.” First coming-back-from-the-dead-joke. Though...maybe he had a penchant for that. “So who's around?” Tony asked, grabbing his coffee from the microwave when it beeped.

“Um... Why don't we do dinner tonight? Together. Luke and Jess are here. Me, you,... Steve. Rhodey. Jan's out of town. Some fashion convention with a dozen adorers. Thor is MIA... Clint said he had a date, I think. But—oh! Scott's here too. Join us?”

Tony hesitated.

“Please,” she added, soft. “We never see you unless shit _really_ hits the fan...”

“Maybe,” Tony said quickly. Then muttered some excuse, heading back to his room. Shower and change. That's what he needed. Then he would go talk to Steve. After.

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

He watched every interview. Not like there were many. Tony seemed to be taking a more private approach to his second round at life. Nothing truly negative about him in the news except a few accusations of being a hermit, having gone crazy, the route of Howard Hughes.

Steve knew Tony was fine. Better than ever maybe. If he were to judge by his fighting style. The black and gold armour Tony was usuing was nothing short of brilliant. Sleek and powerful. Steve had to be careful not to get caught up in watching Tony while there was a battle going on. It was a treat, though, watching Tony move in it. His second skin.

He'd risen early enough to be productive. But after his run and shower, Steve instead haunted the library where his malaise settled in. Steve read half a dozen chapters of half a dozen books. He actually picked up a pencil and began a dozen sketches, half of them Tony, before he dropped those by the wayside too. He'd slumped in the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Steve jerked when he heard Tony's name from the hall outside. His breath caught, gliding soundlessly across the floor towards the door. Carol's voice. Luke's tread. Tony was back in New York?

He frowned, looking down at his clothes. He should change. Something cleaner. Sketches and Aimless boredom forgotten, Steve rushed back to his room to change and freshen up.

Teeth brushed, hair combed, Steve was putting on a fresh shirt when there was a knock at his door. “Yeah?” Steve called, nonchalance practised.

“May I come in?” Tony.

He straightened his shirt and walked over, pulling the door open. Steve couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips at the sight of the man. “Hey,” Steve said softly.

“Where are you keeping it?”

The smile melted away. “What?”

Tony looked around behind him and then leaned in close enough that Steve could smell his aftershave. “The _time_ gem. Where did you put it?”

Oh. Steve sighed ad stepped back. Not here for him them. He let the door close behind Tony as he went to his closet.

“Your closet?” Tony said in disbelief as Steve dug around.

Steve gave him a look. “Didn't you say you kept _yours_ in a sock drawer once upon a time?”

“That's not what we're talking about right now.” Tony folded his arms.

“Oh we're talking?” Steve prodded lightly as he dug in his closet for his old art supply box. He'd wrapped the gem in a handkerchief and then stuck it in a pencil case with some drawing pencils. No one would suspect. “Here,” Steve said finally, holding it up.

“We need to put that somewhere safe.”

“It _was_ safe. Just because it wasn't under lock and key didn't mean it wasn't safe,” he chided.

“Safe. It's in a pencil case!”

“Where no one would ever think to check, Tony,” Steve said, trying for patient.

“Where it could get thrown away?” the man countered in disbelief.

Steve shook his head. “No one goes through my stuff save for me. It wouldn't be thrown out. It was safe because no one would check there.”

Tony just sighed and held out his hand.

At which Steve just stared.

“Steve,” Tony said sharply.

“You think I'm just going to _give_ it to you?” Steve laughed in disbelief. “Tony.”

The man grit his teeth. “We need to get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it? Or use it,” Steve challenged.

Eyes going flinty, Tony just stared at him. “And what am I going to do with Time, Steve. Not like I need to bring anyone back.”

Steve flinched, resolve hardening. “Wow. Not pulling any punches... I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry I lost control. I'm sorry I hur—I... uh... killed you.” He took a deep breath. “I really honestly am. It haunts me that I could...that I _did_ that. To you.”

Tony seemed sort of dazed by the apology. “I uh...”

“You're my best friend.”

“Were. We _were_ best friends,” Tony corrected. But the words were hollow.

Steve took a deep breath, putting the wrapped gem down so he couldn't unwittingly change things again. “Tony. I'd still like to be friends. If that's possible.”

Tony looked away, his fist bumping against his thigh.

“Tony,” Steve said more softly, edging closer. “Tony, please give me a second chance?”

The man flinched, taking a step back. “I... don't know if I can do that...” Tony murmured.

Something in Steve deflated as he sighed, shoulders rounding, eyes dropping to the floor. “I... That's okay. I understand. I mean, that makes sense...”

“Yet.”

His eyes snapped up to Tony's face. Steve held his breath.

“I need...time. Ironically.” Tony looked towards the gem.

“That's not the answer,” Steve said quickly.

“I know that,” Tony replied sharply, giving Steve a glare.

“Yeah... I... figured. I don't...know why I said that,” Steve wrung his hands, knowing Tony knew that. Obviously he knew that. Better than anyone. “Sorry.” Tony was an expert in dealing with temptation. One of the things Steve admired about the man.

Tony blinked at the second apology. “I... oh. Okay.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Anyway. The gem should... How is it even here?”

Steve shrugged. “I don't know. I was trying to clean my utility belt. When I dumped out the compartments, it must have been in one of them, because it was there in the little pile of stuff.”

Tony frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

“You're telling me,” Steve muttered.

He arched a brow at Steve's response, but shrugged. Shifted his weight side to side. “Of all the things to do with time... Why?” Tony asked harshly, his stare inscrutable.

“What do you mean?” Steve said defensively. “Why you? Why _wouldn't_ it be you.”

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes as he folded his arms.

“No, I'm serious, Tony,” Steve told him. “Why _wouldn't_ it be you? You're what's been on my mind since...” He swallowed. “Since it happened.”

“So you felt guilty,” Tony drawled, playing it off as criticism.

“Damn _straight_ I felt guilty!” Steve replied heatedly. “I killed my best friend! Of _course_ I felt guilty. I'd be _worried_ if I didn't feel guilty, Tony! I _miss_ you!”

“No need for love confessions, Cap,” he muttered, eyes averted. Thank goodness. Steve flushed. But Tony's shoulders were hunched, staring away.

“I... uh.” Steve gathered himself. “Look. I was wrong to behave the way I did. You're my best friend—”

“You keep saying that like it me—”

“Let. Me. Finish.” He glared at Tony briefly. “What I did was wrong and unacceptable. So I am very sorry. Which is hardly enough. Nothing is enough. But... But if I can apologise, and if you're alive... That... can be enough for me. I never meant for what happened to happen. I was out of control, and I am sorrier than you can imagine. I don't know how the time gem came to my possession, but I'm _glad_ you're back. So I could apologise to _you_ and not...” he took a couple of steadying breaths “To you and not a gravestone, Tony. If you can manage to forgive me... of course I'll be over the moon. If not, I do understand. So... I... uh. I guess that's my speech. I never wanted you gone. I don't deserve a second chance. But I'd love one. If you'll give it to me.” He looked up at the man, eyes wide in hope as he wrung his hands.

Tony didn't say anything. He opened his mouth a few times like he was going to. And then didn't. Then turned on his heel and left.

Steve stared, confused, at the empty spot where Tony _had been_ and then his doorway. “W-wait! Tony—wait!” Steve rushed after him, the elevator doors already closed. Steve sighed. “Dammit...” And glared at his reflection in the stainless steel doors. “Shit fucking hell,” he added for good measure.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Pepper blinked in surprise a the sight of him. “Tony. I thought you were going to New York for the weekend.”

“I did what I needed to do there,” he muttered, Steve's words having chased him all the way back across the country. They echoed so loudly through his head, bouncing around like a bullet inside a submarine. If Tony didn't let off some steam, change his focus, they were going to break something. It was all he'd been able to think about, the entire flight back. He hadn't slept. He hadn't been able to get any work done. So all he wanted to do was get some physical work done. Build things. Get his hands dirty.

“What happened with Steve?” Pepper asked, as usual, cutting to the heart of the issue. When he didn't say anything, Pepper tutted and rolled her eyes. “It might help to talk about it, you know.”

Groaning, Tony dragged his hands through his hair. “Can I... I need to work. Then I'll talk.” At her sceptical look, Tony glared at her. “I need to process. But I need to work first. Or else it won't be pretty. So give me a little time. Okay?”

Relenting, Pepper nodded. “Okay. Just want to make sure you're okay.”

Tony sighed. “I'm... I'm okay. Physically. Except for being tired. Haven't been able to sleep,” he muttered. “Steve... Steve gave me a pretty elaborate apology.” He snorted. “Kind of like a... it was pretty intense. Anyway. And I'll tell you about it later. Working first.”

“Okay,” Pepper said, voice dry, eyes dropping back to her paperwork.

Tony headed down to R&D to help out, greeting the employees with a wave before heading to the corner of Things Tony Can Make Work. His headache slowly dissipated as he worked on an engine, getting sweaty and dirty. Someone put coffee at his elbow at some point. Then a sandwich. The engine was close to working when he decided to take a break—maybe just change the intake filtering system. As soon as his head hit the futon cushion he'd bought for the R&D lab, he was out.

He mumbled unhappily when his shoulder was shaken.

“Tony... Coffee.”

Which...was always the magic word. He cracked an eye at his disturber.

Pepper smiled at him. “It's tomorrow, Tony. I brought coffee. Morning.”

He pushed himself upright, scrubbing at his face. Then reached for the mug. “Thanks, Pep.”

“Come on. Why don't you come up to my office. We can talk?” She stood from her crouch, heels already clacking across the floor.

Tony groaned and rolled off the futon, never spilling a drop of coffee. When seated across from Pepper, a second mug in hand, Tony heaved a third sigh.

“Just spill it, Tony. You didn't go in guns blazing, right? Steve apologised—”

“I didn't forgive him yet,” Tony muttered.

“Are you ready to?”

He sighed yet again. “I...don't know. I don't... I don't know! I mean, it was like a... Ugh. The whole thing was hugely awkward. And that's saying something.”

“Awkward how?” she pressed.

“Like he's trying to win me back,” Tony joked.

Pepper hummed. “I've always wondered if he had a thing for you.”

Tony's jaw dropped. “I'm sorry. What?!”

“Steve. If he... maybe isn't as straight as you think. Maybe he's bi.”

“'Bi,'” Tony echoed stupidly.

“Yes, Tony,” Pepper replied, patient. “Bisexual. A person liking both se—”

“I _know_ what bisexual means!” Tony exclaimed, a hand gesturing wildly as he sat upright in the chair. “That's just...” He laughed an shook his head. “That's a good joke.”

“It isn't one,” she said, sipping at her mug.

Swallowing, Tony stared at her. “That's... That's not your 'I'm joking' face. Pepper. You can't... You don't really think... It's too early for this shit.”

“I mean, it's always sort of been...” She waved a hand in the air in lieu of the word she wanted.

“Been? Been _what_?”

“Oh relax, Tony. It's never really been overt. It's just always been the two of you. Don't give me that look. The two of you are the backbone of the Avengers. Spider-Man calls you 'Mom' and 'Dad.' Websites and gossip magazines have speculated for years, Tony. That maybe you're having a secret affair or something. Let's not even discuss the Civil War fiasco. And then the two of you rebuilt. Together. After reconciling. Have... Well. I don't know. You hurt each other, but you always come back to one another. Steve's the longest relationship you've had. Besides myself or Rhodey.” She shrugged. “Just something to consider.”

“Oh God,” Tony said, feeling faint.

Pepper only laughed. “Tony, _calm_ down.”

“No, but what if he was confessing his love? Trying to win me back?” His mind reeled, re-analysing the events.

“Didn't you win him back after the whole deal with your memory? Tony, you went off the rails after he died. When he's not around, you lose your centre. I—”

“So you're saying I turn gay?” he exclaimed, voice high.

She fixed him with a look. “Tony... Stop it. Besides. You're already...”

“Already?” he prompted, folding his arms.

Lips pressed together, she cocked her head. “Aren't you—wow, we've never talked about this before, have we. I thought—I'd always assumed you were at least a little interested in Steve.”

“Okay. I've slept with two guys in my life, Pepper. Both drunk. Both in college. Neither knew how old I was.” He set the empty mug down after draining it and then refolded his arms.

“Jesus, Tony...”

“Drunk child, Pepper,” Tony said flatly.

“Did you like it?” she asked, a brow arching.

“I was drunk.”

“Doesn't answer my question.”

“It wasn't...” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn't dislike it.”

“Okay. So. Maybe it would be good between you and Steve,' She said with a smile.

“Okay. Hold on. We are getting _way_ too far ahead of ourselves. Not to mention, why are you pushing this?” Tony said, quickly standing.

“Pushing what?”

“Me! Being with Steve? Going back to New York? Trying to make nice with him?! What the hell!”

Pepper's lips pinched, looking down at her desk. “Are you happy?”

Tony frowned, going quiet.

“Are you happy, Tony?” she asked again, looking up at him, eyes sharp. “I've known you a very long time, as I said before. Rhodey and I. And I know... I know it hasn't been long for you. But... I think... I think you're not happy. And I think you'd be happier going back and being on the Avengers. If you made peace with Steve. The two of you have been fighting for a long time, and I think it would be good to use this as an opportunity to start new. You've always been happiest fighting alongside Steve. And the most unhappy when fighting against him.”

“I'm not fighting against him.”

“But you're not fighting with him either,” she said patiently. “And I know I've commented before. You're not happy here. Which is why I want you to seriously think about what's best for you. If you can't accept Steve's apology, that's fine. More than fine. You have every right. You were wronged. Severely. And...”

Tony folded his arms. “And...?”

“And I didn't talk to Steve for a long time. In fact... We'd only recently begun to communicate just before you came back.”

“You didn't mention that...” Tony muttered.

Pepper nodded. “I know. But we'd just started talking again, and he was saying how much he missed you and how much he—listen, Tony. I'm not trying to guilt you into this at all. That's now what this is supposed to be at all. I'm just saying, I know how badly you wanted to be friends with Steve again after things went bad and it was your fault. So I know Steve feels the same. I'm just saying that maybe you two should have a lengthier conversation with neither of you storming off because you don't want to hear it.”

Glaring at the floor, Tony huffed. “Maybe. I still think we're getting ahead of ourselves.”

“You're right,” Pepper agreed kindly.

“I'm going to go home and shower,” Tony muttered.

“Okay, Tony,” Pepper said, a fond smile in her voice as Tony turned away. He was at the door when Pepper called his name.

He looked back.

“You know I love you, right? I only want what's best for you. I want you to be happy.”

He nodded, saving that for later. He wasn't going to think about any of this right now. Except that when he got home and showered, Tony was thinking about Steve and sex and wasn't _that_ awkward. He growled and threw himself back into work, remotely.

He had four days before the next Avenger call required his help, half the team being away, helping out with a natural disaster in Brazil. Tony ignored Steve, following his directions. Until he couldn't do it anymore, swooping in close to the giant robot dinosaur and planting charges to disable it. He shut off Steve's (fond?) yelling in his ear, getting the hell out of Dodge. Until his world was suddenly flipped over and over.

Tony hit the pavement hard, his charges blowing. Groaning, he got his hands up, scrambling to his knees to get out of the way. He hadn't counted on the dinosaur giving chase and being this close when they went off. His heart in his throat as he realised the beast was going to fall on him and Tony's knee joint was locked. Fuck, this was going to hurt.

But then he was flipping and tumbling again and he could _hear_ Steve's voice, yelling at him. Comms back on, Tony winced, cutting them off again so he could open the faceplate.

“—diot! When I tell you something, I expect you not to do the opposite and put your fucking life in danger! God, for someone so _smart_ you really are a colossal idiot! And you just—”

Tony burst out laughing, hysteria-tinged. Of course. Well now it all made sense. Didn't it.

“Why are you _laughing_?! You think this is _funny_ , Tony? This is your _life_!”

“You get mad at me because you care?” he said, banging at the knee joint until he could straighten it.

Knocked off mental balance, Steve stared at him, swallowing, still looking pale. “Of course,” he said finally, voice flat. “I don't want to lose anyone else. So I want to take care of my team. I don't want anyone making stupid decisions that would get them hurt or killed.”

How very political of him. Tony almost believed that all those 'anyone's' weren't just substitutions for 'you' or 'Tony.' He huffed and shook his head. “Right. Well. Thanks for the save, Cap. I'll be more careful in the future, okay?” Tony turned to go, save for Steve's hand on his arm.

“Come back and fix yourself up some before you run off to the other side of the country? Pepper won't chew me out then.”

Tony looked at him before finally sighing. “Alright. Fine. She'd have my hide too if I didn't do some quick repairs before heading home.”

Steve nodded and dropped his hand. “Thanks.”

Tony nodded and headed back towards the quinjet instead of flying back to the Tower. The trip was long (longer than than he was used to, to the Tower) and awkward. Luke gave him a strange look, but said nothing. Steve sat across from Tony, Carol flying them home.

He sent a quick message to Pepper saying he was fine and that he was staying longer to get some repairs in before heading home at Steve's insistence. Tony went straight to the workshop to get his armour off.

Steve followed an hour later, pizza in hand. He rapped on the door, holding it aloft like a bribe to be let in.

Too bad it worked. Tony sighed and unlocked the door. That and Steve looked so damned pathetic.

“Hey, Tony... Figured you might be hungry. I brought your favourite,” he said, hopeful, coming over with the box and a stack of napkins.

So Steve intended to stay then. Tony set down the new plating and sighed. But he got up and washed his hands before grabbing a slice. As he ate—and he was hungry—Tony waited. Steve clearly had something to say or else he'd have dropped the pizza and left. But apparently there was something else he wanted to say. All Tony had to do was stay silent and wait it out.

Unfortunately this time 'waiting it out' was two and a half slices of pizza and fifteen long, awkward minutes later. Thirteen. Thirteen minutes. And forty two seconds. But fifteen was close enough.

“Tony...”

Finally. He looked up at Steve and waited.

“So a while back...” Steve stared at the the mostly empty pizza box. Then finally let out a short bitter laugh. “Ages ago, it seems...”

It was killing him, but Tony didn't say anything. He would let Steve push through this one on his own.

“You once said... You weren't even half as good as when you were standing next to me. Or... Or something like that...” Steve stared harder at the pizza box. “And... I wanted to let you know... The reverse is true. I'm better when I've got you at my side.” Steve's eyes tightened then he nodded once. Looked up at Tony. “Yeah. I'm better when I have you.”

That... Tony's mouth stilled, brows lifting. Oh shit.

“That's all.” Steve kept his gaze a moment longer and then stood.

“Wait!” Tony blurted. “That's all? You remember that shit from all those years ago?”

“Do you?”

“Well... _yeah_ , but...” Tony pulled a face, staring at him.

“But what?”

“I didn't expect you to remember.”

“Why not?”

Tony's mouth opened, no sound coming out. Finally. “I don't know. I guess I just... I don't know. It was some stupid shit I said, and I didn't think it was something you'd remember.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of _course_ I meant it,” he replied quickly.

Steve gave a slow nod. “Okay. Well. I mean it too. We're just _better_ as a pair. I mean, team. When we work together.”

Tony couldn't help Pepper's earlier words echoing through his brain. “So you want me to move back to New York.”

Steve's eyes snapped up at him from the pizza box, staring a second before, “Well, ideally. But—”

“I don't know if I'm ready for that,” Tony told him flatly.

Steve winced. “I... Tony... I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do... Anything that will help. _Anything_.”

Something in him eased and Tony took pity on the guy. “That's why I'm not in New York, Steve,” knowing as he said the words they were true. “I... need time. To forgive you.”

Steve nodded so fast Tony thought his head was going to fly off. “Okay. Okay! That's fine. I'll let—I won't bother you about it. I'll leave you alone!” he said, eager and almost boyish in his earnestness.

It hurt.

Tony sighed. “I don't... You don't need to treat me differently. It's fine. Just... let it be normal, Cap. Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve nodded again, his hands balled on his knees.

Except it wasn't normal. And Tony was getting really frustrated. The next two times he came to New York, Tony—well, the first time, in his defense, was habit. Accidental. He picked a fight with Steve over strategy. And Steve backed down pretty quickly, his eyes averted, looking guilty.

The second time he did it on purpose, testing. Steve back down again, that little tic going in his jaw.

But three times a pattern makes, so Tony suggested bad strategy when they called him, using the guise that he 'had an idea.'

“Tony... That's...” Steve said, the doubt plain in his voice. Like he was straining or holding back.

“No, it's fine. This'll work,” he said tightly. Pushing.

“But that leaves your six unprotected, and puts Clint wide open,” Steve protested, 'nice' still in his voice.

“Clint is going to very firmly say he does not like this plan,” Clint piped up.

“Tony,” Steve said, warning. “Too many people are at risk.”

“Going in!” Tony replied, voice injected with cheer.

“Don't you dare!” Steve said, the Captain back in his voice.

That was more like it. But—

“Tony!” Steve snapped, iron behind his words.

There it was. Tony let the silence stretch another twenty seconds. Then, “Got a better idea, Cap?”

Steve's sigh of relief was audible before he was snapping out orders. It was efficient and effective. Everyone was protected and it was safe.

When the fight was over, Tony landed, faceplate flipping up, waiting for Steve to come and dress him down. Like he would have before. Instead, he gave Tony a stifled glare and then looked away. Tony grit his teeth. No way. He opened his mouth to let loose, startling when a hand fell heavily enough on his armour for him to notice. He whirled, facing Carols' sympathetic features.

“Save it. Neither one of you will be glad if this happens here in the street.”

“I hate it when you have good advice,” he muttered, fondness creeping about the edges of his voice..

She slapped his shoulder again. “There you go.”

He snapped the faceplate shut and shot off towards the Tower. Tony loitered in front of the big windows, waiting for Steve to get back with the rest of the team, looking out of the city. He left the suit on. Figured Steve might be less reluctant to let go when Tony was protected in the suit.

Steve seemed startled to see him when he walked in, cowl hanging loose down his back, gloves tucked into his belt. His step hesitated, further betraying his surprise, eyes flicked over his shoulder, where the noise from the rest of the team was following. Tony jerked his head towards the elevator and Steve bee-lined for it, joining Tony just as the doors slid shut.

Leaning against the back wall, gauntlets retracting, Tony watched Steve surreptitiously.

“How come you're still here?” Steve asked, voice soft.

“I'm going to pretend that question doesn't sound like you don't want me here,” Tony said mildly, ignoring the way Steve visibly flinched.

“I didn't—I mean, I _do_ want you here. I'm sorry. I do—”

Interrupting Steve's apologies that were verging on annoying, Tony said, “Why didn't you stop me.”

Steve looked at him sharply. “I—what?”

“When I suggested that _awful_ plan.”

Steve's shoulders eased. “Geeze. Thank goodness. I'm glad you know it was bad. If you really thought it was okay, I'd have—”

“Done nothing,” Tony interrupted him again.

“Excuse me?” Steve blinked at him.

“You'd have done absolutely nothing. And you could have justified it with the reasoning that I'm not a full-time member, I'm under a lot of stress, I need to be cut a break, _whatever_ it is...” The doors slid open, letting them out into Tony's workshop.

“What are you talking about?” Steve said, nose wrinkling as he stalked out after him.

“I'm talking about the fact that you can't yell at me,” Tony said, taking a few steps before turning and facing him, arms folded across his chest.

“I can yell at you,” Steve argued defensively.

Tony arched a brow.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, throwing his hands up. “You _want_ me to yell at you?”

“Yes.”  
Steve's face was a mask of confusion. “I... What?”

“Yell at me,” Tony said calmly.

“Why would I—” Steve sputtered.

“Yell at me. My plan was shit, Cap. Poorly thought out. Dangerous. Reckless.”

“Everyone makes mist—”

“It put other people in danger besides myself. _Something_ ,” Tony said louder, to talk over Steve's sputtering, “you hate.”

Steve glared at him, mirroring Tony's stance. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to yell at me?” he challenged.

“Shut up!” Steve snapped.

Tony smirked.

“Shut. Up. Why do you—” Steve cut himself off with a snarl. “Why do you want me to yell at you.”

“Why _won't_ you yell at me?” Tony pressed.

“I don't want to yell at you!”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't!”

“You do.”

“Why?!” Steve blurted, exasperated.

“Because you still feel guilty,” Tony told him.

“Could you stop,” he replied tightly.

“Stop what.”

“Stop _analysing_ me!”

“It's true.” Tony shrugged casually. “If you didn't _still_ feel guilty, you wouldn't back down so quickly each time we argue.”

“I don't...” Steve trailed off, voice dying, guilt obvious on his features. “Tony... Just...”

“It's been over four years, Steve. If you can’t yell at me, we're not ever going to be friends again.” That was a low blow. Tony knew that. But honestly. If Steve kept treating him like he was made of spun glass, Tony was going to go crazy. And he hoped wearing the suit made him seem less fragile to Steve. Though now, in retrospect, a show of strength might have been better communicated by not wearing the suit. He casually began to retract pieces, baring his body of flesh and bone.

“You...” Steve's face went from pale and shocked to confused. “Tony?” Steve met his gaze. “Uh. What are you doing?”

“Taking the suit off.”

“I... can see that.”

“Then why'd you ask?” he retorted.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I meant _why_?”

“Either you yell at me, or we go spar,” Tony said. “I think I might be out of practise. And it's been a while since you tossed me to the mat...”

Steve sucked in a breath, paler now, eyes wide. “No...” he said softly.

“Then _yell_ at me, Rogers,” Tony snapped, losing his patience. He stalked towards Steve, his boots—the only parts left—clomping on the concrete. Tony stopped in front of Steve, giving him a little shove.

Steve flinched back.

“Yell at me!” Tony demanded.

“I can't...” Steve gasped

Tony's eyes narrowed, hand coming and punching Steve in the jaw.

Steve stopped cringeing, eyes popping wide. He stared at Tony, about as surprised as Tony that that had just happened. They stared at each other a moment.

“Uh...”

“Again,” Steve breathed. “Hit me again.”

Tony's eyes widened.

“Hit me again,” Steve blurted, quick and hushed.

A step back and Tony snorted despite himself. “What. Is this some sort of an-eye-for-an-eye thing? I'm not going to punch you because you feel like you deserve it.” His voice was sharper than he meant, but this was quickly devolving to places Tony wasn't prepared for.

Steve flinched and then whirled, disappearing into the elevator.

Leaving Tony Stark alone and very confused. So he flew back to Seattle to think.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Steve expected that to be the end of it. Tony would be done with him and he'd see him for very little. Friendship over. Done. Finito. Steve and Tony would never be friends again. Steve had crossed a line. He'd finally broken things between them.

What Steve had _not_ expected was for Tony to move back to New York. To the Tower. Although it took Steve two days to find out. He'd sulked—yes, he was sulking—in his room and the gym. Sometimes haunting the roof to feel small as he stared at the stars.

So needless to say, the last thing Steve had expected to hear, heading to the common kitchen after a long workout and a shower, was Tony's laughter. Frowning, he figured it was a video call or something. Carol? Rhodes? So Steve grabbed a mug of coffee and then wandered into the TV room, completely unprepared to see Tony on the sofa, laughing. With Carol and Rhodes. _In person_. So Steve gaped like an idiot, jaw slack. Then figured he must be visiting. Which was also a first. They were lounging on the sofa, mugs of coffee—no wonder it was hot and fresh—in hand. But Tony was in sweats and a t-shirt. No socks, Steve noted absently. Why did Tony never wear socks? Surely he got cold. And it was dangerous to be in his workshop in bare feet. That was stupid.

Steve was startled out of his own thoughts by Rhodes calling his name. He almost dropped his mug. Tony's laughter died, craning his head around to look up at Steve.

“Rogers,” he drawled. Steve sure he was reading more int the twist of Tony's lips than was there.

“Tony,” he replied stiffly, feeling absurdly like two outlaws staring each other down, hands itching to draw guns. Shit. He needed sleep. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hear the good news, Cap?” Carol said brightly. She continued over his stammering. “Tony's a resident of New York again!”

“That's... uh. Really?”

Carols' eyes turned sharp as she stared Steve down. “Yup! And we're pretty excited!”

“Yeah!” Steve blurted, catching on. Tony snorted. He'd caught on too. Steve pushed on before Tony could say anything, however. “Yes, I'm glad you're back in New York. That's great, Tony. Does that mean you're looking to be back on the team?”

Staring at him coolly, Tony shrugged. “Not yet, I think.”

“Okay,” Steve continued doggedly. “It'd be good for you to join us for training though.”

“We'll see, Cap,” Tony said with a little tilt of his chin, as if taking on a challenge.

Steve had the feeling that Tony was mocking him. But he smiled all the same and made his excuses, backing out of the room. And, predictably, Tony didn't attend training for the next six and a half weeks.

Steve, meanwhile, took four of those weeks readjusting, jumping, flinching, twitching wherever he heard, saw, or ran into the man. His emotions, too, vacillated between thrilled and titillated that Tony was back, and wistful and despondent that the man probably still disliked him on some well-earned level and was mad about their last encounter, throwing himself in Steve's face as payback.

So in a way, Steve was very surprised that Tony didn't come train with the team.

In another, way, Steve was glad. Because Tony in work-out clothes... Sweat dripping down behind his ear and along his neck...?

He groaned, dropping his book into his lap.

“Still haven't made up with Stark?”

Steve swore lowly, jumping up and whirling to face Clint with a glare.

“What?”

Huffing, he faced the TV again and dropped heavily onto the sofa.

“It's kind of...” Clint invited himself to the space on the sofa next to Steve. “I'd say 'funny,' but I think the word really should be 'pathetic.' Seriously. Would you two idiots get over it already? Everything's better when you two aren't fighting.”

“Clint—”

“And don't you dare tell me 'it's not like that.' It is.”

“Except that it isn't,” Steve said firmly. “I _killed_ him, Clint.”

The man shrugged. “And he mind-wiped you, he arrested you, and he put you on trial. Causing you to get shot. So you're even. Now stop moping around and get on this!”

Steve pursed his lips. “Definitely not the same thing at all. I—”

“La la la la la la!” Clint popped his hearing aids off. “Can't hear you!”

“Jerk,” Steve muttered, elbowing the man. Who merely snickered and put them back on.

“So. Tend to the diva for the rest of our sakes,” he said cheerfully, hopping over the back of the sofa to go...elsewhere.

“Tony's not a...” Steve sighed, falling back into the cushions.

“What am I not?”

Steve jumped a second time, spinning to look at Tony. He really needed to stop sitting with his back to the door. “Tony!”

“That's my name; don't wear it out,” he said blandly. He stood in the doorway, hands casually slipped into his pockets. And Steve would believe the casual, save that he could read the tension in his shoulders and in the tightness around his eyes.

“I...didn't hear you approach,” Steve finished lamely. “Clint was...here.”

Tony's lips twitched.

“We were talking...” Steve offered, ducking his head.

Rolling his eyes, Tony just gave a short bark of laughter. “Like a schoolgirl in front of her crush, winghead.”

He started at the nickname, Steve's eyes flicking to Tony's face, Steve stared hard at him, forgetting to even blush at the partial truth of Tony's statement. Because Steve did love Tony. He knew that. And he knew he needed Tony too.

“Cap?” Tony drawled wryly. “Still in there? Or has the cat got your tongue?”

He shook himself and organised his thoughts quickly. “I... I'm fine. Just. Can you tell me what it means? You calling me that?”

If Tony was surprised by the straight forwardness of that question, he didn't show it. He didn't so much as bat an eye. “It's a nick-name,” Tony said glibly.

“One you only call me when we're friends,” Steve said slowly. “We're not friends.”

This time something like hurt flashed across Tony's face. But before he could say anything, Steve plowed on.

“Not for lack of desire,” he assured. “I just...thought you hated me.”

Tony was quiet. Contemplative. “I don't...hate you. I was mad. Am still mad. But...” He shrugged awkwardly. “I want to...try to make things work again.”

“You...mean it?” Steve asked.

Tony rolled his eyes, finally crossing the room. Steve's eyes followed the entire way. “No, I was kidding...”

“Please,” Steve said low. His chest felt tight just at the possibility that Tony might be kidding. “Don't joke about this.”

Tony's face was once again taken over by an assessing moue. Lips pressing tight, he sat in an armchair sort of adjacent to the sofa. “You really want to be...cordial again?”

“I want anything you're comfortable giving me,” Steve said quickly.

“Friendship?” Tony asked lightly.

“I've missed you so much,” Steve blurted, his mouth clearly running with no input from his brain.

Tony didn't show any emotion. He just stared at Steve for a long moment.

“Tony... You have to—” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I can't even tell you how sorry I am, Tony. I've...missed your friendship. Your presence. The team—shit. I just—”

“Deep breath, Cap,” he said mildly.

Steve took two. He dropped his head into his hands, shaking with emotion.

“Shit, Steve. Take it easy...” Tony said, rustling sussurations indicating the man was moving.

“You don't... Thank you,” Steve breathed. He took a shuddering breath as he felt Tony's hand on his shoulder. And then promptly shook apart into quiet sobs.

“Oh hell...” Tony muttered.

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please forgive me, Tony. I am _so_ sorry. Please forgive me. I never wanted that. I shouldn't have _ever—_ I knew. I _knew_ ,” Steve blubbered. “I'm so sorry. It was on purpose. I know your weak spots. Of course I do! Please forgi—”

“Steve!” Tony finally interjected firmly. “Shut. Up. I get it already.”

Scrubbing at his face, Steve hiccuped softly, taking deep, slow, calming breaths. Wiping his face on his shirt, Steve straightened. “I'm s-sorry,” he mumbled.

“I got that,” Tony said. “You apologised. And I'm...ready to forgive you.”

“Already? You are?” Steve's eyes watered up again, looking up at Tony. Tony and his open, honest expression. “Th-thank you,” Steve said gratefully. “What...what can I do? What do you want me to—”

“First of all, stop giving in too easily,” Tony interrupted him again.

Steve frowned and opened his mouth.

“Yes. You do,” Tony went on. “Every fight. You give in _way_ too easily. _Fight_ me, Steve. I'm going to push until you fight back.”

Steve's stomach clenched up. “Please don't. That's what got us into this in the first place. Please, Tony. I—”

“Verbally,” he amended. “Stop treating me with kid gloves. I'm whole. I'm not injured. I'm not fragile. Please don't...do what you do. Back to normal. As soon as we can. So you can lose that 'just saw a ghost' look.”

He stared at Tony finally nodded. “Okay. I'll work on it.”

“ _We'll_ work on it,” Tony corrected him. “And we'll begin with sparring. Once a week.”

That he was more reluctant to agree to. But, “In the suit.”

“At the beginning,” Tony agreed. “And we do it twice a week if I'm in the suit.”

Heaving a sigh, Steve nodded. “Okay. Okay. That's... I can... Yeah. I'm okay with that.”

Giving a succinct nod, Tony straightened. “Okay. Great.” He stood.

“Want to...watch TV or something?” Steve asked quickly, not quite ready to let Tony go from the moment.

Looking at Steve a moment, Tony's posture relaxed and he nodded. “Sure. I'd like that. I'm—” Tony jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “—gonna grab a soda. Want anything?”

“I'll take a soda,” Steve said. “Please.”

Tony nodded and vanished into the kitchen to get them drinks. Returning to the sofa, he sat, next to Steve, handing him a Coke.

“Thanks,” Steve said softly.

“No problem.”

“What would you like to watch.”

“Uh-uh. You don't always have to cater to what I want,” Tony said, phone already in-hand.

“Then we're watching 'Crazy on Eighth.' It's a new show about—”

“Yeah, that's fine, Steve. Go ahead.”

He frowned but turned on the TV. This was his favourite programme. After about fifteen minutes of the show and Tony _still_ not putting down his phone, Steve said, “You don't have to stay. You can go. If you've got better things to do.”

“Hm? No. No, I'm good,” Tony said lightly.

“Or we can watch something different? I know you weren't exactly into rom-coms—”

Tony finally looked up from his phone, frowning at Steve. “Well. No. But it's fine.”

“Tony,” Steve said, exasperated. “You haven't looked up from your phone.”

“So?”

“The point was to watch something together. This isn't that. We may as well watch something you're going to enjoy too,” Steve protested.

“Steve, I'm _fine_ ,” Tony said with a laugh.

“But you're not even—”

“Oh for fuc—fine,” Tony said, exasperated. “How about some 'Hawaii 5-0' or something. You like that, right?”

“It doesn't play anymore. Though I'm sure there are some reruns,” Steve said slowly.

“Then how about you show me something new that you think I would enjoy that you like as well,” he said flatly.

“How about one of the movies you missed,” Steve suggested.

Tony sputtered, gaping at him. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Steve said quickly, worrying he'd said something wrong. “What?”

“I've become you,” Tony said, falling back into the cushions. “'Let's watch something you missed.' Oh hell.” Tony stood suddenly.

“Wha—wait!” Steve grabbed his wrist. “I didn't mean it like that!”

“No of course you didn't; I know that.” Tony looked down at him. “Want to let go?”

“Don't run away, please.” Steve stared back at him. “Please,” he said again, voice low.

“This is ridiculous, Steve. I—”

“How's business?”

“What?” Tony's brow wrinkled.

“How is business,” Steve asked again more slowly. “Resilient. Tell me about it.”

Giving him a suspicious stare, Tony sank back onto the sofa again. And Steve let go. “Resilient is good. Gaining momentum.”

“As it should, with you back being the driving creative force in R&D,” Steve prompted.

Tony gave him another assessing stare. “Uh. I guess... I've been running trials on a thermal coating for metals that draws and conducts energy from both light and cold, so it could coat space ships, so we can finally _really_ get ourselves out there in a real way. Then, of course there's the Beta Car...” Tony went on, gaining momentum, phone laying forgotten in his lap as his hands joined the conversation, waving about enthusiastically. A good hour later, Tony just stopped mid-word, hands dropping into his lap. He gave Steve a mild glare. “You tricked me.”

“What?”

“You _tricked_ me,” Tony accused archly.

“What?” Steve said again.

“Into talking. You tricked me, by asking about work. So I'd talk.”

Steve blinked and then chuckled. He shook his head. “Believe it or not, Tony, I actually like listening to you talk about your projects. That's when you're most passionate.”

Jaw working, Tony just sat back. “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” Steve asked gently, not wanting to disturb the fragile camaraderie.

“I'm just, I guess. I'd always assumed you were humouring me.”

Steve shook his head. “Shop talk always got you riled.”

“It's called technophilia,” Tony said with a wicked grin.

Steve flushed, sputtering. “That's not what I meant _at. All_!”

Tony burst out laughing, head tossed back freely in a way that Steve had missed, his heart aching.

And instead of taking offense, Steve just smiled at him fondly.

“What,” Tony said, staring at him, voice still full of warmth and laughter.

“I lo—” Steve's eyes went wide, heart dropping at what he'd almost just said. “I just... I've missed this.”

Some of the tightness came back to the corners of Tony's mouth. “Uh, yeah—”

“It's fine,” Steve said quickly, cutting him off. “You don't have to. I just want to say I've missed your friendship. You're... I'm glad you're back. Again. You don't have to say anything back. I just... wanted you to know.”

“Steve...” Tony said drily, eyes a little wide. “What are you saying.”

“Just that I want to...” Steve frowned at him, kind of confused. “What do you mean? I'm just saying I'm glad you came back to New York. And that we can try to be friends again.”

“Uh huh,” Tony replied, falling quiet.

Steve was missing something. He opened his mouth to ask, feeling off-kilter. Tony was seeing something that Steve wasn't.

“Right. Well I'll got get some work done. See ya around, Steve,” Tony said, standing and stretching.

Steve stared at the strip of skin between Tony's waistband on his sweats and the hem of his shirt. And—oh. There's that little strip of hair.

“Steve.”

His eyes snapped up to Tony's face. “Huh.”

Tony's eyes sharp, his lips twitched. “See you around.”

“Uh. See you,” Steve said quickly, flashing Tony a smile.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Pepper, Steve's in love with me,” Tony said as soon as he was somewhere private. His room, he thought.

“I don't have time for this...” she drawled. “Also, I told you so.”

Tony groaned. “Okay. But I have no idea what to do with that...”

“Tony, I _really_ don't have time. I'm going to go. Please get the plans done for the circuitry for the Beta Car's control panel and navigation system.”

“Can't you at least just give me—Pepper?” Tony pulled his phone away from his ear, glaring at the blinking 'end call' message. “Dammit!” Fingers tapping against his thigh, Tony dialled again. “Rhodey!”

“Tony? What's up.”

“So.... Steve's in love with me.” After a long moment of silence, Tony prompted his friend again. “Rhodey?”

“I... have no idea what to do with that statement...”

“I don't know what to do either. That's why I called you,” Tony said. “He doesn't know what I've figured it out.”

“Figured it out? He didn't say so outright?” Rhodey pressed.

“Well, no. But I'm not... I mean. I can tell. I'm at least about 82% positive. He keeps saying these things that are... like little confessions. I think he almost said it. And I did the stretch thing—”

“The sexy stretch...?” Rhodey said wryly. “Show some skin?”

“Yeah. He _totally_ stared. So I had to call his name. Because he was distracted,” Tony insisted. “What do I do.”

“Okay. This is entering dangerous territory. I do—no. You know what? I'm not going to get involved because that is _dangerous_. And if I don't get—”

“Rhodey, you—”

“ _If I don't get involved_ , then I can't be blamed for whatever outcome this has. And if it's bad, I for _sure_ do not want to be any part that resembles a middle for these events. So,” his friend said firmly. “No.” And then hung up.

Tony growled and tossed his phone onto his bed, pacing back and forth, tugging at his hair.

“Knock, knock,” an amused voice said at his door.

Turning, he arched a brow a Carol. “Can I do something for you?”

“I was going to see if you wanted to chat, wonder boy. We haven't _really_ caught up. And I thought maybe I should see how that conversation went with Steve.”

“Perfect timing,” Tony said. He walked over and shut the door behind her, nudging Carol inside. “Steve's in love with me,” he blurted for the third time in a short time-span. “At least, I'm pretty sure he is.”

Carol blinked at him. “Alright. That's what you're leading with? How sure is pretty sure? C'mon. Balcony? It's nice out.” She brushed passed him out onto Tony's private balcony.

Tony stared after her a moment before hurrying to catch up. “Uh. How is no one surprised by this?!” he exclaimed, hands waving around.

Carol just gave him a look full of amusement. It melted pretty quickly into something a little sad and wistful. “You didn't see him while you were gone.”

Tony scowled. “So everyone keeps saying. And how come that gets _him_ a pass and not me.”

Carol shrugged a shoulder, leaning on the balcony rail. “He's Captain America.”

“And I'm Iron Man!” Tony threw up his hands again. “That's all sorts of unfair. Such is the American way... Did he mope and write 'Steve Stark' all over everything?”

Carol just laughed. “Damn, I've missed you.”

Scoffing and folding his arms, Tony rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous. I don't understand why no one is surprised...”

“To be honest, some of us are surprised you and Steve haven't been at it for years,” Carol said mildly, tipping her face into the sun even as she shrugged her sweater tighter.

“So I've been hearing...” Tony grumbled. “How did I miss all of this pining.”

“It was only really super apparent when you were gone. He was pretty bad. Called Rhodey 'Tony' a bunch of times. I think he was hallucinating you at one point. I swear, I thought he was losing it. Guilt alone—”

“He _was_ guilty,” Tony interrupted sharply.

Sighing, Carol pushed a hand through her hair. “I'm not saying that at all. Remember how guilt affected you? Now think about what Steve must have been feeling.”

“Yeah, I _get_ it. Poor Steve. Shit, trust me, I get it. I just... don't know what to to about it,” Tony leaned against the rail too, looking out over the city.

“Do you... _want_ to do anything?” Carol asked, curious. “I mean, letting him down easy is the kindest option. Do you do guys? I didn't think you went for guys.”

“Honestly. It's like you people don't even know me...” Tony huffed.

“Well,” Carol drawled, “for a man who's lived his entire life in the media, you sure do know how to keep things close to the breast.”

“Are you calling me a good secret-keeper or a good liar?”

“Maybe some of both, Tony,” Carol said mildly. “How many people do you actually let in? Pepper, me some days, James, and Steve.”

“And Happy and... and Ru...” Tony muttered, ignoring the pain in his heart over those two. “Is it beat up on Tony day?”

Carol snorted. “I doubt it'll be 'beat up on Tony day' for a long time yet.”

Brightening, Tony laughed. “Hey! It's a dead me joke! Thanks!”

Laughing more openly, Carol shook her head. “Always happy to oblige. Though getting back to the topic at hand... Would you even...” she shrugged. “I dunno. Get with Steve. Romantically?”

Tony shrugged in return, casual. “I don't know if I'm un-mad enough for a...friendship. Let alone a relationship?”

“Fair enough.” She invited herself to the chaise, flopping back

“You and Rhodey are happy?”

Carol looked at him, her face going soft. “Yeah. Yeah, we are, Tony.”

“And you're still—” he waved a hand. Then huffed. “Sober.”

“As a nun,” she replied with a grin. “Sober and happy.”

Tony gave her a full smile then. “Good. I'm glad. I'm glad Rhodey found himself another alcoholic to tend to.”

Carol snorted and rolled her eyes. “I'd say he has a type, but you haven't slept with him.” When Tony kept quiet, her eyes popped wide. “No fucking way! Please? Tell me I'm not getting Stark sloppy seconds!”

He cackled and relented. “No. No, Rhodey and I have shared a bed. But the poor peachmuffin is straight and prefers the fairer sex.”

“You dick,” Carol muttered fondly. “But your answer didn't say 'no.' You'd have sex with Steve?”

Sighing, Tony flopped down into a chair on the other side of a small table between them. “I...”

“Have always carried a torch for Steve?” Carol supplied.

He glared at her. “While not untrue, don't put words in my mouth please.” Tony sighed again, staring up at the sky. “I'm having a harder time figuring him now.”

“Now that the rose-coloured glasses are off.”

He glanced at her sharply. “I didn't say that.”

“But it's not untrue, as you say.”

He looked back up at the sky, lacing his fingers over his middle. “No,” Tony said slowly. “I guess it's really not untrue.”

“You sort of had a fierce case of hero-worship where Steve was concerned,” Carol said gently.

“I _know_ ,” Tony groaned. “I just...want to have an answer if he ever says anything about it.”

“You think he will?” Carol turned her head towards him, brows going up.

Tony thought a moment. “No,” he answered finally. “No, I don't think he will. I wonder if he even realises...”

“I think he's self-aware enough to realise. I think he's very much aware... Would you ever say anything?”

Scowling, Tony tore his hands through his hair. “I don't know! He's so wrapped up in his damn guilt...!”

“Are you seriously faulting him on _that_?” Carol asked wryly, rolling onto her side and leaning on the arm rest.

“No,” he said sharply. “Not that. Specifically.” Tony sighed, thinking of the events in his workshop. “The power dynamics aren't right.” When Carol didn't give a response, he looked over at her. “What? What's that face for?”

Her assessing expression shifted into a grin. “Look at you...”

“What?” he blurted, sitting up.

“That's... Really mature. And responsible. I'm really proud of you, Tony.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, flopping back into the chair. “You’re ridiculous.”

Carol giggled. “I am serious though. That you recognise that, and you're respecting it. Good on you, Stark. That's really great.”

“Don't be patronising,” Tony drawled at her.

“No, I really do mean it. That's great. Do you think you'll do anything about it down the road?”

Huffing, Tony flapped a hand in the air. “I guess I'll deal with it if it happens.”

Carol stared at him a long moment before saying, “You don't have to be alone, Tony.

“I'm not,” he said defensively. “I've—”

“You've got friends, yes. But _somebody_? How long has it been? Who was the last. Pepper? Hill?”

“Maria wasn't serious,” Tony muttered.

“So Pepper. And it's been years. Just something to think about. Maybe give it a chance. When the time is right? Stop orbiting around one another and meet in the middle.”

“Stop it,” Tony grumbled. “You're making sense.”

She laughed again and then rolled forward off the chaise. “Every once in a while I'm good for it. You know. As thanks.”

“Okay now really. Stop,” Tony laughed. “It's fine. There's no debt between us. So long as we both stay sober.”

“Give it time, Tony. Let Steve have his space to figure out what ground he's standing on and see how it goes. I'll be here.”

“Thanks, Carol,” Tony said warmly, standing as well. “Dinner?”

“Works for me.” And grinned. “Get yourself dressed. We'll paint the town.”

Tony laughed too. “Alright, alright. Guess that means Laughing Panda. Still around? Still your favourite?”

“Yes and yes; meet you in the garage. You're driving.”

“Deal.”

 

* ~ * ~ *

 

The first time they sparred, Steve got mad and scared himself with the anger and called it quits early. Which made Tony mad. So he flew off in the suit for an hour.

The second sparring attempt, Steve wore himself out beforehand so he wouldn't _have_ the energy to get mad. Then Tony threw him into the wall and Steve got mad anyway. And Tony took another cool off flight over the city.

The third time, Steve threw Tony to the mat and then threw himself off of Tony. Though when Tony opened the faceplate, he was grinning.

“Better!”

“Better?” Steve echoed, horrified. “Tony! I—”

“Just put me on the mat, Cap. Seriously. Fine. I'm good.” Tony climbed to his feet, moving easily. “Let's go again.”

Steve shook his head. “I...don't like this, Tony. I—”

“Afraid you're going to hurt me?” Tony supplied. Then shrugged. “Yeah. Probably. So. I'll probably hurt you too.”

“The difference being—”

“Doesn't matter what the difference is, Steve!” Tony snapped. “You're... Listen. We'll hurt each other. That's what we do. And you know what? We'll get over it. Because we're friends. And because we're adults, damn it. Who know how to apologise.”

Steve stared at him, then swallowed sheepishly. “You're... shit. You're right, Tony. I just really don't want a repeat of...”

“That's not going to happen,” Tony said confidently. He settled into a loose pose, fists up. “Because we're _sparring_. And you're not mad enough to kill me.”

Steve flinched, his entire stomach going into knots. “ _Tony_!”

“What? Too soon? Geeze, Cap... You're sensitivity is going to be the death of me.”

Steve stared at him, jaw slack in horror, even as he let out a strangled guffaw. “That's not funny.”

“Mm...pretty sure it is.”

“No. No, Tony. It's not,” Steve insisted.

“Are you sure about that?” he countered, voice low and mouth turned up in a wicked grin.

“Yes! I'm sure!” Steve said, going on the offensive. Tony, shockingly, was prepared and darted out of the way.”

“I'm _dying_ to hear why though,” he continued.

“Terrible!” Steve exclaimed in disbelief, holding back laughter as he dodged a punch and blocked another. “You are the worst!” But Steve was also having a hard time holding back the laughter.

“You're killing me here, Cap.”

“I hate you!” Steve complained, hands lowering as he dissolved into laughter.

Tony came in closer. Of _course_ he wore the most self-satisfied grin ever.

“You are terrible.”

“You're pronouncing 'amazing' wrong,” he replied cheekily.

Steve huffed and shook his head, heart beating fast at the sight of Tony grinning and laughing with him. “I don't...”

“Don't what, Cap.”

“I don't know how— _why—_ you're even...” Steve frowned, not sure how to put it into words without being offensive. But Tony was just staring at him expectantly. “Why you even _want_ to be friends. After everything.”

Tony's head tilted. “Okay. But after all those things I did, why did you ever want to be friends with _me_ again?”

“That's different,” Steve protested.

“No different, Cap,” Tony said firmly.

“You didn't kill me,” he said flatly.

“May as well have with the SHRA shit,” Tony retorted.

Steve grit his teeth. “No. That was _nothing_ like this, Tony. Nothing. Don't even—” He took a deep breath. “You were... You gave me a home, Tony. You gave me a home when I came out of the ice. And that...meant a lot. _Still_ means a lot. You've given me...so much over the years. And no, before you get all... _you_ , this isn't misplaced gratitude. Okay? This isn't just paying you back or some shit, okay? I do actually like you. You're my best friend. Even before I knew who was actually in the suit. You've been there for me. Listening. Giving me advice. And I'm grateful for that. And I'm glad we’re friends. Despite everything over the years. You're irreplaceable. I'm glad we're friends. I wouldn't change that.”

“Wouldn't you?” Tony said, head cocked, eyes and tone oddly light.

It threw him. “What?”

“You wouldn't change that? At all?” Tony pressed.

Steve blinked a few times. “What do you—what are you talking about?”

“Our friendship,” Tony said slowly. “There aren't any aspects that you would change at all?”

Steve swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Well maybe that we fought less...”

“That's it. That's all you would change? Nothing else?”

“I don't know—”

“Nothing you would detract? Nothing you would...add?” Tony stressed the word, eyes locked on Steve's.

“Add?” he echoed stupidly. “I don't know. Is this a trick question? Is there... Should I know what you're talking about?”

Tony huffed, seeming almost...disappointed. “Never mind, Cap. Doesn't matter. No big.”

“Tony—”

“Tt's fine. You don't want to—well. It's not a big deal. We're friends. And I'm glad. So let's just... Friends.” Tony flashed him a smile too bright and then settled into a loose ready stance again. “Let's go.”

Sighing, Steve shook his head at the man's oddities, relieved that he hadn't been figured out. Later, Steve got himself off in the shower, guiltily thinking of Tony's eyes and his smile and his laughter.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Now that Tony had figured out that he apparently couldn't let it go, he needed a plan. Steve did want more. That much was obvious. Now that he knew to look for it. Sitting at his workbench, Tony drummed his fingers, staring at his screens, trying to increase the output for the repulsors in the boots. So he could get places faster. Even if he didn't have to go cross-country anymore. Increased efficiency would be nice too. And shaving some weight off the suit while he was at it. But first... Tony groaned.

Steve.

Tony thought about it. Thought about Pepper's words too. He had always been kind of Steve-focused. Steve-occupied. Not obsessed. It wasn't an obsession. Just...a preoccupation. And if he started to think about it... Sleeping with Steve.... He felt everything sort of glaze over. Sleeping with Steve certainly wouldn't be so bad.

However, it looked like what he'd told Carol was a lie. If he wanted anything to change, he was going to have to take the lead. Make the first move. Or engineer the situation so Steve was forced into making the first move. Tony sighed, still sort of stuck on the idea of sleeping with Steve. Definitely no hardship at all. The rest of it however... The relationship part. Tony still wasn't sold on the idea that that was a good thing to try. Although... He snorted. It really couldn't go worse than the past couple years had been for them. “Famous last words...” he murmured to the silence.

Tony tabled that, turning his focus back to the suit and working. He worked through the afternoon and through dinner, surprised when Steve came down later.

“Leftovers. Pesto chicken,” Steve explained, offering the warmed plate.

Tony grinned as inspiration struck. “Oh? This bribery, Cap?”

Steve's eyes, predictably, went wide. “Wha—no! No, Tony, it's—”

He laughed. “Relax. I'm teasing. You know what they say: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

The flirting predictably, too, threw Steve for a loop. “Uh... You missed dinner, Tony.” Steve chose to ignore it then.

“I did.”

“And I'm bringing it to you.”

“So you are.”

“Like I used to.”

Screw this... “When you weren't in love with me.”

Sucking in a breath, Steve forced out a laugh. “Tony, not everyone is in love with you.”

And maybe another time, another place, Tony would have bought it. “No. They aren't. Just you, I think. I'm a hard man to love,” Tony told him, gaze not wavering.

“Only because you don't let m—people!” Steve protested.

A slip up. Point one. “Nah. Lots of people think of me as an unloveable bastard.” Tony shrugged. Especially after everything.

“Because you play it up and don't _let_ people in close. You do so much good! Tony, seriously. How can you not see?!” Steve threw his hands up.

“Well, after fucking everything up spectacularly...” he drawled. Point two to Stark. “With SHIELD. The Avengers. For Asgard and Thor. Pepper. Hell, even Maria. And...” He let the pause swell. “And you...”

“I'm just glad you're back! None of that matters anymore! You're alive! That's what's important. Can't you see that, Tony?” Steve insisted. “Hasn't Pepper welcomed you back with open arms? And the rest of the team is glad you're back too!”

“And you?” he asked lightly, trap baited. Tony shifted on his stool to face Steve better.

“Of _course_ ,” Steve said, exasperated. “You're my best friend, Tony.”

“But only your best friend?”

“What? What are you getting at? You're on my team.”

“Your partner?”

“Well it depends on the scenario, but—”

“What about the scenario where you get over yourself and we go to bed together?” He leaned against his worktable casually.

Steve gaped. And then immediately sputtered. “T-tony! You—”

“Stop dancing around it, Steve. You're in love with me. I'd like to do something about it.”

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Steve stared back at him. “I... Is that a good idea, Tony?”

“What's the worst that you've thought of as an outcome to this going poorly?”

Steve's eyebrow twitched. “I can thi—”

“What is the _worst_ ,” Tony pressed.

Looking away and wetting his lips, Steve shifted his weight. Finally, “Another fight.”

“Exactly,” Tony said.

“Tony, that's—”

“But it'll be personal, because this is a relationship.”

“Exactly!” Steve protested, taking a step forward.

“But it's a relationship. We're not—Steve, I _know_ both of us fairly well by now. And with something this personal, we're not going to let it spill over. Because it's more of a private issue. Not a team issue. Or something that will effect the health and well-being and safety of the team.”

“Well...” Steve drawled.

“You know what I mean,” Tony said quickly, mind going to the same place as Steve's: the SHRA. But that wasn't born out of a personal issue.

“Yes,” Steve admitted grudgingly. “I do.”

Tony stayed silent a moment, letting him think. Then plowed on. “So the worst that will happen is a fight between the two of us where we make veiled barbs in front of the team, keep professional in public, if cool, and cold shoulder the hell out of each other in private. All in all... not so bad.”

“You say it like the end of our friendship is no big deal,” Steve said, shutting down as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Wrong,” Tony said. “I'm saying the worst, in the long run isn't so bad. Comparatively. That's just the bad. Besides which, we're not really friends now.”

“Thanks,” Steve grumbled.

Tony saw the hurt flash across his face, though. “I mean not like we used to be.”

“So you think jumping into a relationship instead would be a good idea. I feel like that logic is flawed,” Steve said, head tilting.

Tony hummed. “That hadn't been my plan, but it's a good one nonetheless. We're still relearning each other. Doing so within the confines of a relationship gives it a different context, so I'm thinking that might work better for us. Hm?”

Steve sighed. “I don't know. I don't. I think...I think that makes it too complicated. Too many things, Tony. Too much change at a time.”

“Steve, we've been flirting around this for ages. Years. But hey. I'm not going to force it. If you want to stay just friends, that's fine with me,” he said, forcing casual into his tone, shrugging. “I'm just thinking aloud here now. We've considered the worst. But we haven't talked about the best...”

Steve looked up at him, blinking like he hadn't thought about it. “I... Right...”

“So what's the best thing that happens?”

Steve flushed and looked away, making Tony snicker. “Stop it... Don't laugh.”

“No, it's fine. I was thinking about the potentially steamy sex that would be involved.”

Steve rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I wish you wouldn't... Geeze. It's a private matter. I hate that everyone talks about it so openly these days.”

“Oh hush, old man. So. Some great sex. Because it's me. And what else?”

Pursing his lips, Steve thought, clearly considering it before he answered. “Well...” he said slowly, “we would be closer than ever... Hopefully. And we could... see more of each other. I'd have my best friend back.”

All good things.

“I'm tired of losing people...” Steve continued slowly. “I want... I want. I have the team, but I'd really like to come home again.”

Tony frowned. “You are—”

“No, I mean, a home with... Home is where the heart is, Tony. And I want someone to come home to. I...have thought about it before. With you,” Steve admitted, staring at his hands, his shoulders slumping tiredly.

“Steve...”

“No, I have.” He looked up at Tony, meeting his eyes.

“I believe you,” he sighed.

“You understand. What it's like. To be what we are. And Tony, don't doubt that you're a hero. You deserve a place on the team. If you want it. I'd like to formally make the offer.” Steve chuckled. “This is sort of a wrong moment, but I'd like to—”

“Sure,” Tony said, cutting Steve off from talking himself out of it. “I'd like that. I accept.”

Steve gave him a warm smile. “Great. Going to take Iron Man back?”

“I think Rhodey's getting tired of the title...” Tony said casually. “He misses War Machine. So. Maybe...” The man had already offered, of course.

“You should,” Steve said. “I miss Iron Man too.”

There it was. Tony nodded. “So. What do you think? And don't pretend and say 'about what.' You're sharper than that, Cap.”

He shook his head. “We're a bit passed that point, aren't we.” Steve sighed.

“You can think about it,” Tony offered. “Take some time. But... you know. Not too much time. Think about it. Get back to me. Take a week, if you need it.”

“That's... Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

He almost didn't ask. But then... “May I kiss you? Give you something else to think about? Just once. No pressure.”

Steve snorted. “No pressure. Yeah. Sure.”

Tony took that as a 'no,' and spun back back towards his workbench. He opened his mouth to tell Steve to have a good night when the man spoke.

“Okay.”

Looking up at him in surprise, Tony blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, stepping closer.

Tony jumped up, taking the final step that put them very close. He grinned. “You been thinking about this a lot.”

“Don't tease,” he said firmly. “Just do it.”

“Wow, winghead, that sounds like you really want it...” Tony drawled. But he hooked a hand behind Steve's neck, tugging him down a bit so their lips could meet. Tony paused just before their lips touched, looking at Steve's face. His red cheeks. His eyes shuttered. Tony pushed the rest of the way, kissing Steve slowly, wanting to make an impression. But not too desperate. Angling his head, he pressed, tongue flicking against Steve's upper lip, making the man part them. Tony licked into Steve's mouth, teasing his tongue out so Tony could suck at it, then nip at his lip lightly before he pulled back slowly. He was maybe a little stupidly proud that Steve chased after his lips before straightening and clearing his throat. Tony grinned at him, wide and perhaps happier than he should be. “I blow your mind?”

“Not with just a kiss,” Steve retorted, but his face was red, his lips plump from being kissed.

“Bummer,” Tony said, grin still shit-eating wide, eyes crinkling up in genuine joy from the exchange. “Well if you want me to blow your mind, or just blow you period, you know where to find me.”

Steve rolled his eyes and huffed. “Honestly...”

Tony laughed, bright, and then stepped back to his stool. “Well, I'll eat my now cold dinner and you can go think your thoughts and figure out if you want to be in bed with me or not.”

“Or you could come up and reheat it,” Steve offered, head tilting.

Looking back at his work, Tony shrugged. “Alright. Twist my arm, why don't you.” There was no reason he couldn't meet Steve halfway.

“Consider it done,” Steve said, taking the plate again and raising his brows in question.

“Ow, ow, okay, uncle!” Tony protested in jest, standing. He patted Steve on the back, then gave his ass a smack, testing his boundaries.

Steve jolted slightly, sucking in a breath, but then relaxed visibly as they entered the elevator. “It's fine,” he said aloud primly, chin lifting. “It's fine.”

Tony snickered and headed upstairs with him. He had a feeling things were going to be okay now. Slowly. Slowly they would get there. Steve hadn't pushed him away. He felt quietly pleased with the results of this little chat.

“Hey...” Steve said softly.

Tony looked over at him in question.

“How about a movie...?” Steve asked, lips twitching. “Like old times. Except now you're the one out of the loop.”

“Keep pushing it, Rogers...” Tony grumbled, folding his arms.

“You can eat your dinner, and I'll get us popcorn,” Steve offered, sounding slightly hesitant.

“Yeah,” Tony said quickly. Didn't want to keep him guessing. “Yeah, movie sounds good. Pick something. And we'll watch it.”

Steve nodded and then switched the plate to the hand on the side away from Tony. He chewed at his lip a moment and then glanced at Tony. He took a deep breath and reached out for his hand.

Looking up at his face only briefly, Tony ducked his chin, clasping Steve's hand in return as the elevator doors opened. He lead him out, heading towards the kitchen, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still an epilogue coming...


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... Sorry for the delay. My life kind of exploded for a while and I didn't really have any motivation to write, despite the epilogue being half-finished already. So. I hope you like it. Hopefully it lives up to any expectations.

Seven months. Seven months since they mutually agreed to give this a go. Seven months and they were still working things out.

It had been five years, two months, and 3 days since Steve had killed Tony.

Now Steve just wanted to have sex with him.

His appetite was long since whet. Steve and Tony had shared heated kisses just about everywhere in the Tower, and some of it had (pleasantly) devolved into some intense heavy petting. Over, unfortunately, clothes. And Steve had never really been one for loss of control—no, that wasn't right. Steve had never been one for giving in—no, that wasn't right either. Steve... It didn't matter. Steve just really wanted to let loose—there it was—with Tony. And he wanted Tony to let him. But something was holding them back. Something kept getting in the way, whether it was team-mates, whether it was timing, whether it was phone calls, whether it was the mood, whether it was either one of them having hesitations that just put it of, whatever it was... It hadn't happened yet.

And Steve didn't think he wasn't ready. He was. He was very ready. Just...unsure of how to communicate that to Tony. They'd talked about it. They were both clean. They were both going to be with men for the first time. And that wasn't a concern for either of them.

Tonight was date night. Steve's turn to pick the place. Tony had chosen last time. So Steve actually chose a nicer-scale restaurant, making sure they had some privacy. While they were open with the team, they hadn't said anything overt to the press. So Steve asked for a private table at the French restaurant when he made the reservation. Tony looked great as always in his suit, collar open. Steve had worn a nice polo with a blazer and a pair of slacks.

The food was good. But, Steve wasn't honestly paying attention. He was more focused on how he was going to talk to Tony about this. Maybe forget it. Leave it for the ride home. But then if things got awkward... They'd be trapped in the car with an awkward silence between them.

“Steve?”

He shook himself, eyes snapping up to Tony's face from the table.

“Everything okay?” Tony asked, eyes on him, trying to discern the problem.

Steve shook his head. “No...”

“No?” Tony said in alarm.

“I mean yes.”

“But?”

He shook his head again. “Yes. Just yes. That's all.”

Tony stared at him a moment and then dropped his eyes to his plate. “And you—”

“Yes, I'm sure, Tony.” Steve set his silverware down. “I... I don't want to—this isn't anything to freak out over—”

“Oh God.”

“But can we talk about something—”

“Here it is.”

“It's not  _ bad _ ,” Steve stressed quietly. “It's just...more suited to a private place.”

“This is pretty private.”

“ _ More  _ private.”

Tony straightened, head tilting slightly. “You... huh. Okay.” He pursed his lips, brow slightly furrowed. He jerked a thumb at the door. “Wanna go?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We can finish eating first, doofus.”

“Steve. You seriously did not just call me a doofus.”

The grin came back, Steve leaning forward, teasing. “Might'a done.”

Tony scoffed. “I can't believe this...” He dropped his silverware on his mostly empty plate and then folded his arms leaning back in his chair. “I can't. You're terrible, winghead.”

His grin widened. “Your brand of terrible, shellhead.”

Tony snorted and stood, dropping a pair of hundreds on the table. “Oh my God. We're leaving. Now. Before this gets any cheesier. Let's go, you sap.”

Steve shovelled the last two bites of the fish into his mouth and leapt up after Tony.

“Chew your food, squirrel...” Tony said fondly, looking back at him.

When Steve swallowed, he leaned in close and said, heart pounding, “You just want to know what I want to talk about, don't you.”

“Damn straight I do.” Tony unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat. Once Steve got in and buckled up, Tony headed towards home. “This private enough for you.”

“It's probably less awkward when we're home...” Steve allowed.

“Well, get it off your chest,” Tony urged.

“I want to have sex,” Steve blurted.

Tony looked at him sharply, swerving on the road. “Shit!” He quickly got the car under control again and huffed. “Yeah. Maybe should have saved that,” he said tightly.

“I... Geeze. I'm sorry. I just...” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I know it's... I don't want to wait anymore. I want to. I don't know if you're...waiting for me to ask, or what. But I want to, Tony. It's okay with me.”

“Okay! Okay, I get it. You want to do the do...” Tony muttered.

Steve paused. “Do...you not?”

“What? Yes. I want to.” He flicked a quick glance in Steve's direction.

“Then what's the hold up.”

“Well. I'm driving, for one. And we're not doing it in the car, because there is nothing worse than getting pulled over in the middle of road-head—”

“Okay, no. Stop,” Steve said firmly. “You know what I mean, Tony. You've been stalling. Why? Do you... Are you sure you want to?”

“Are  _ you _ sure you want to?” Tony countered.

That gave him pause. “I... Tony. You still don't think I want this?” Tony's stoney silence made him furious. “Are you serious right now? Anthony Stark. You think I don't want this? Do you know how many nights I have jerked off to the thought of you in the shower? Just this week? That's not counting the past eight years! Or whatever! I  _ want _ you! In bed, out of bed. Tony. I want you!”

Tony was silent a while longer. But just before Steve launched into another tirade, he said, “Alright. I believe you. I... want you too. When we get home. Why don't we go upstairs...”

Steve fell back into the seat with a heavy sigh. “Thank goodness...”

Which caused Tony to break out into snickers. And maybe speed a little on the way home. They kissed slowly in the elevator after some awkward hand-holding. Tony finally turned towards him, throwing an arm around his waist and reeling him in close. “You're sure?”

“I'm sure,” Steve said confidently. He grinned and leaned back in to kiss Tony, deepening the kiss and then backing out of the elevator when the doors opened. He got Tony into his bedroom and then shut the door behind them, locking it, quickly grabbing at Tony's clothes.

“Easy— _ easy _ !” Tony laughed, pulling away. “Don't rip things, He-man.” Tony shed his own jacket and shirt, hands pausing at the hem of his undershirt. “Well. Aren't you going to undress?”

Steve shook himself, ceasing staring and tugging his own clothes off until he was in only his boxers, Tony in his briefs. “You uh...have stuff?” he asked, standing next to the bed, suddenly feeling awkward. 

“Yeah,” Tony said softly, stepping in so close Steve could feel his body heat. “Yeah. I've got everything we need. On the bed? Do you want to use condoms?”

“Is it... I... No,” Steve said, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Stepping between Steve's legs, Tony pushed him down, bending over him to kiss him as he tugged Steve's boxers down. His eyes dropped between them when Tony stopped kissing him. He knew he was half hard already. But Tony's underwear had somehow disappeared while he'd been distracted. And seeing him bare... The first time, Steve realised.

“Steve?”

Looking up, Steve huffed at Tony's smug grin.

“Like what you see?” he rumbled, dropping his hips so his cock brushed against Steve's.

“I...” Steve replied hesitantly.

Shifting his weight, Tony reached between them, fingers ghosting along Steve's length. “Yeah?”

“Oh. Uh... Oh. I've just always sort of thought that penises are pretty weird-looking.”

His hand stilled, looking up at Steve. “Seriously?”

“Don't you?”

Tony swatted his hip and got off of him, crawling up the bed. “If you keep talking that way, I'm not sticking it in your ass.”

“Well _ that's _ romantic...” Steve quipped.

“So's your comment about how funny-looking dicks are,” Tony retorted, fishing some lube out of the drawer.

“Well they are! It's nothing personal. I just... I'm assum—hey! Who said that you get to do that.”

Tony looked at him over his shoulder. “You want to do it the other way around?”

“I... You can take lead this round...” Steve muttered, cheeks heating.

“Great!” he said cheerfully. “I did research. Why don't you get up here, gorgeous, and lay on your front, ass in the air. I hear it's less uncomfortable that way.”

“Double negatives...” Steve muttered, but did as Tony suggested. He laid his head on the pillow, wrapping his arms under it. Knees together, he kept his bum up in the air, face burning.

“Nah, legs apart, sweetheart,” Tony said, pushing a hand between them.

“Feels weird...” Steve muttered as he did just so.

“Exposed?”

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“I mean... I guess we could do it with you lying on your back... Try it.”

Steve dropped and rolled over. But then his cock stuck up between them, with his legs splayed out. “I...” Shaking his head, he quickly rolled back over and pushed his ass into the air again. “Okay. Like this is better.” He heard the  _ snick _ of the tube opening, the squelch of lube being poured out, and his hid grimace in the pillow. After a moment, Steve felt Tony's finger against his ass, his anus. He sucked in a breath. 

“Ever played with yourself?” Tony asked. “Like this?”

“Twice...” Steve muttered, eyes sliding shut as he focused on the feel of Tony sliding a finger around his asshole.

“Relax,” Tony urged. “It'll feel much better if you relax....” Then slid his finger down behind Steve's balls and rubbed.

That sent a zing up his spine, Steve biting his lip.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he said breathlessly as Tony kept it up.

“Talk to me. Tell me how it's going? How you're feeling. So I know if something's not going right,” Tony said softly.

Steve twitched as he felt a kiss on the base of his spine. “It's weird... But not bad. Just...still weird.” The pressure returned against his hole, Tony pressing a finger in slowly. “Oh!”

“Bad oh?” Tony paused.

“Uh-uh,” Steve said, shaking his head minimally. “Keep going...” And Tony did. He worked his finger in slowly, moving it around inside Steve. He shifted his hips, trying to get it to feel more arousing. Steve slid one hand between his legs, curling his fingers around his cock. When Tony returned with two fingers, it did draw a gasp out of him.

“Okay?” Tony asked, sounding concerned and very focused.

“Y-yeah. Feels...big. Weird. But not bad...” Steve said again, breathing in and out slowly and trying to focus on relaxing those muscles specifically. It was weird. This was all very weird. But his cock was still hard, partially due Steve's hand on it. He squirmed, letting out a yelp when something felt _ really _ good.

“Shit—”

“Good!” Steve gasped. And rocked back on Tony's fingers to try and get the same thing again. “Again! Again, that was good.”

“Must be your prostate...” Tony murmured. He thrust his fingers into Steve again, sliding them against the inside of him until Steve jerked. There. That was it. Steve let out a groan that was embarrassingly loud, made worse by Tony's breathless laugh from behind him. “Again, right there, again—no, what are you doing!” Tony's fingers retreated. Steve twisted to try and see what Tony was doing, but Tony's hand steadied his hip, the blunt press of more at his ass. “Oh...” Steve breathed, relaxing and leaning back into the stretch. There was a soft squelch as Tony's fingers slid in and out, Steve tensing up, embarrassed. He lurched forward, Tony's fingers pulling out.

“Steve!” Tony protested, gripping his hip.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” Steve fell to the side, face burning.

“You okay?” Tony asked, brows lifted in concern.

“Fine... Fine. I just...”

“You've had sex, Steve.”

He frowned. “Yes?”

Tony chuckled, bending down over him. “So you know there are noises during sex... Right?”

“Well yeah, I just...”

“Don't be so nervous.”

“I'm not,” he said quickly, face hot.

“We don't have to do it that way,” Tony said slowly.

Steve paused. “Uh...”

“Lie down. On your side,” he instructed, giving Steve one last soft kiss before he pulled back to give Steve space to move. When Steve was down, Tony snugged himself up behind Steve, getting an arm under his waist.

“What do I do?” Steve asked, twisting his head to look at Tony.

“Nothing, yet.” Tony had the lube and popped it open with his fingers. Brought it to his other hand so he could pour some on his free hand. Tony slicked his cock and then brought his hand around in front of Steve. “Leg up a little.”

Steve did so, watching Tony's hand disappear between his legs. He hissed as Tony smeared lube between them, fingers teasing against the insides of his thighs and behind his balls. The excitement came back, Tony's hand holding his leg up a bit. He frowned as he felt his cock slide between his legs, resisted when Tony pressed on his leg.

“Let go,” Tony said softly, kissing between his shoulder blades.

Steve did so, his legs closing around Tony's cock.

“Squeeze tight,” Tony instructed.

Again, he did so, letting out a soft noise of surprise when Tony thrust in between his legs, letting out a soft groan. “Oh,” Steve breathed, eyes going wide as he relaxed into the bed. He could feel the slide of Tony's cock against his inner thighs, bumping up against his balls from behind. “Oh,” he said again.

“Better?” Tony asked, his hands sliding down Steve's lower belly, fingers toying with Steve's cock.

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice low and throaty, rocking back against Tony, squeezing his legs tight together. This was nice. He reached back, hand curling around Tony's thigh as he rocked back on his cock, forward into his hands. “Yeah... You... You good?” Steve asked.

Rumbling softly in answer, Tony thrust harder, drawing a raspy groan out of Steve. “Perfect,” Tony said, voice low with arousal. Tony's hand, still slick with lube, curled around his cock, stroking up and down.

Steve groaned again, pressing back and making sure he kept his thighs tight together for Tony, bucking forward into his hand. “This is good too...” he breathed. And Tony was quiet, kissing the back of his shoulder, just the sound of their love-making and harsh breathing. “T-tony...” Steve gasped as his balls tightened up. “Gonna--”

“Go ahead,” Tony said, leaning up a bit to watch as his hand stroked firmer and more confidently.

“You—”

“I'm there. Wanna watch. Come on, Steve. Go ahead,” Tony urged.

And with his partner's low voice in his ear, Steve came, spilling up his chest and over Tony's hand. He felt a rush of slick between his legs, Tony grinding up against him.

Panting, Steve laid there, a little dazed.

“Good...?” Tony murmured, nuzzling at the back of his neck.

Steve nodded. “Great... Next time. Next time we can try the other...” Steve offered.

“Hey. You don't want to do it that way, it's fine. We—”

“No, it felt good,” Steve said quickly, twisting to look at Tony. “It did. I want to do it.”

Tony laughed softly, his hand cupping Steve's cheek, thumb brushing fondly over the swell of his cheek bone. “Alright. Alright. We've got time. We can do that. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

“And then I want to try doing it to you,” Steve said, eyes wide and earnest.

Tony stilled a half-second, Steve watching him parse that. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Steve grinned. “It'd be cheesy to say we have a lot of time to make up for, but really. We have a lot of time to make up for. And I'm...” He coloured a little. “I'm excited to...share this with you.”

Tony blinked. “I. Yeah. Yeah. That's... Alright. We'll figure it out. Try everything.”

“Everything,” Steve echoed happily, grabbing a tissue off the bedside table and wiping himself clean before settling against Tony, heart warm and happy.

 


End file.
